The Case of the Missing Heart
by Aslan's Princess
Summary: John has been chosen by the keyblade to defend his city. But even with the help of Keyblade Masters from other worlds, can he and Sherlock find their world's heart and seal it before all falls into Darkness?
1. Preparations

John blinked the remaining sleep from his eyes as he took in the familiar walls of his Baker Street room. That had been the oddest dream he'd ever had. He brought up his left hand, opening and closing his fist as he examined it. The odd blade had appeared in his hand as soon as he needed it.

He shook his head as he washed up, then he dressed before heading to the main room of his shared flat. His flatmate was laying lengthwise on the sofa, hands folded beneath his chin. Doubtful that the tall, lean man had actually slept. At least the "casual" foray into his mind palace was as good as a rest for his body.

"Bad dream?" Sherlock asked, his eyes on John without turning his head.

"More odd," John said. "It was like nothing I had ever seen before. I was standing on a finished stained-glass window. There were these . . . shadows . . . physical forms of darkness. Given three choices at various times. A strange blade that destroyed the shadows." He shook his head. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

He entered the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. He paused for a moment, and flexed his hand once again. A faint voice whispered in his mind. "A 'keyblade'?" Shaking himself he set about making toast. A dream. Just a bad dream.

* * *

"You keep having that dream, don't you?"

John blinked at the conversation switch. They had just been leaving the resolution of a case, Sherlock expounding on the incredible nuances of it when he abruptly changed the subject. "Yes, almost nightly this past week," John answered. "And I keep recalling more on waking each time. But it still makes no sense."

"And you are certain you've never seen anything like it before?"

John half-laughed. "I'm sure I would have remembered seeing a stained-glass window featuring myself in the design."

"What?"

"Once we get to the flat, I'll sketch it out for you."

About an hour later, after claiming some Chinese take away, John was sketching out different items from his dream. The circular stained-glass platform featuring him wearing his favorite jumper, trousers, and shoes, his military pistol ready in his hand. But he wasn't at attention or wary. He was reclined against the outer rim, finger just outside the trigger guard, safety on. Etchings of Mrs. Hudson, Harry, Sherlock, and Greg occupied a smaller circle within the larger one.

He sketched the items symbolizing the choices he was given: a sword, a shield, and a wand. He captured the rough likenesses of the small shadows and the giant shadow. Then he drew the weapon, a keyblade. A keychain hanging from the hilt showcased the familiar RAMC insignia. Golden laurels formed the guards, while the shaft and hilt seemed to be a unicorn's horn of twisted silver-blue and white. The "teeth" appeared to be a sharp caricature of a serpent's head with a blue reptilian eye clenched in its jaws.

Sherlock studied each sketch, his face revealing nothing. "Perhaps a message of some sort? There's no other explanation."

"But that's impossible," John said.

"You have never come across anything like this before and yet you sketched it with a surety that relays their vividness. And since you are a man not accustomed to wild flights of fanciful imagination, this must have been otherwise planted in your mind. And as you know, I believe that once all possibilities have been eliminated save the impossible, then the impossible must be possible."

John released a long breath. Of course. He should have suspected that it wouldn't be as simple as something he ate. "So what kind of message?" he asked.

"Why don't you ask them?" Sherlock returned. "A voice speaks to you does it not?"

"Yes."

"Then see if you can talk with the voice. Maybe it will offer some insight."

* * *

Falling. He knew he had done so the other times, but now that he had decided to be more deliberate and proactive, he acknowledged the sensation. He spread his arms a little and flexed his fingers. It was like flying through water and diving through air.

The glow of the now familiar platform grew as he finally came within sight of it. Some unseen force flipped him over so he landed on his feet.

"You are more aware. You are closer to waking."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Sherlock says this is supposed to be a message. How can I know that message if you don't tell me?"

"Patience, John. Your power, a power long dormant for generations, is starting to wake in you. A message?" Light, tinkling laughter. "More a training ground in preparation of a coming darkness."

Somehow that felt right. "And now that I'm 'more aware'?"

"This will be your final choosing. You have now tested each combination of choices for your chosen path. Choose the path that rings true for you."

Three pedestals rose from the glass. "A power sleeps within you. If you give it form, it will give you strength. Choose well."

John looked at the wand, shield, and sword. He wanted to keep the shield, symbolizing a guardian, ability to help friends, to repel evil, if he recalled the details correctly. But it wasn't his first choice. He took the sword from where it floated above the pedestal.

"The power of a warrior. Invincible courage. A sword of terrible destruction. Is this the power you seek?"

"Yes," he answered. "And in exchange I give up the power of the mystic."

The voice sounded intrigued by his quickness. "You have chosen the path of a warrior and given up the path of the mystic. Is this the form you choose?"

"Yes," John answered.

His surroundings changed. He was in 221B again. Mycroft stood near the kitchen; Mike Stamford stood near his chair; and Donovan stood by the sofa. John approached Mycroft, already knowing what needed to be done.

"What is most important to you?" Mycroft asked.

"Friendship," John answered. He immediately turned to Mike.

"What do you want out of life?" Mike asked.

"To be strong," John said without hesitation. Then Donovan.

"What are you so afraid of?" she challenged.

"Being indecisive," he answered.

"You want friendship. You want to be strong. You're afraid of being indecisive," the voice said. "Your adventure begins in the dead of night. Your road won't be easy, but a rising sun awaits your journey's end."

Baker Street faded away so that he was once again standing on the stained-glass window.

"You have made your final choice. Now your training shall begin in earnest."

Three shadows appeared, twitching and sniffing.

John's hand flew to his hip. But his pistol wasn't there.

"Summoning your keyblade should be just as instinctive. Recognize that darkness and defend against it."

After some minutes of practice, he asked, "What did you mean by generations?"

"You are descended from two of the Old Masters. Long ago there were five Masters. One night, two of them came to know each other intimately. By the time the resulting child was born, their teacher, the Master of Masters, started saying that he would be leaving them. Fearful of the unknown future, they took the child to another world to be cared for by another family. You are a direct descendent of that child.

"You have inherited their strong heart and noble spirit. A keyblade has chosen you."

"What about Sherlock?"

"He may yet have a chance. We shall see."

John nodded. A chill swept over him. He whipped around, hand about to fly to his firearm before he summoned his keyblade. He was learning.

* * *

"The leaders of the Darkness will tell you lies."

"What sort of lies?" John asked, leaning on his keyblade after a scuffle.

"They will tell you the world started in Darkness, that Darkness is the heart's true essence."

"What's the truth then?"

"The worlds were created with Light by the Master of Lights and Glory. The hearts of the first beings were formed of Light. Only when the Usurper arose did Darkness start to infect the worlds. Thus while Darkness does invade every heart, it was not always so. The very youngest still have a veil of Light that protects them.

"But the Son of the Master took part in a mission that brought about the possibility of everyone being restored to the Light."

"That sounds like Christianity."

"It is in your world. In other worlds, they go by different names, but in most worlds that hold a version of England, the Master of Lights and Glory is best known as the Living God, Yahweh."

"And other worlds?"

"It is not your concern to know the religions of other worlds. What is your concern is your relationship with the Master in your own world."

Darkness surged. John whirled to meet it.

* * *

"I need lessons in swordsmanship," John declared. It had been a week since he started being more active in his "dreams." He could tell that he was better prepared mentally, but physically? He needed to establish muscle memory.

"Not fencing?" Sherlock asked.

"Fencing uses a thin rapier," John answered. "I need to work with a broadsword or a long sword, something more comparable to the size and weight of a keyblade. Would you happen to know where to start looking for lessons?"

"I do as a matter of fact."

* * *

John looked about in amazement. The gym Sherlock had taken them to was very high class. And his flatmate was very comfortable here, indicating he'd been here many times before.

"We'll start with practice swords," Sherlock said. "See where you are then go from there." He tossed a sword, which John managed to catch, even as the detective spun a second sword in his offhand.

"You've had lessons already, haven't you?" John asked.

"Of course, best way to play the part of a pirate," Sherlock answered. "Films are horribly inadequate material. Let us start."

For the next hour, John discovered just how sorely he was lacking in swordsmanship. Sherlock was correcting his stance, his grip, his attack, his defense, . . . everything.

"Not giving up are you?" Sherlock asked when John collapsed on a bench.

"Not likely," John ground out. He had been chosen for a reason, and he wasn't about to disappoint.

* * *

"What were the names of my ancestors?" John asked.

"Ira and Invi. Most have forgotten them. They are of a time before the first Keyblade War."

"What is this Keyblade War?"

"That is not for me to say. I am very much a part of you, and as such my knowledge is limited."

"But how then–?"

A shadow almost jumped him. He growled. He hated not finding the answers.

* * *

"You're a fast learner."

"Possibly comes with using these techniques in my nightly sessions as well," John said. He had been practicing swordplay for two weeks now and was proud of his progress.

"Then it is time for you to try these real swords and choose the one you feel is most like your keyblade," Sherlock said.

While Sherlock claimed a pirate-like cutlass, John looked over the various blades. He passed over the ones shorter or longer than a meter. He was certain that his keyblade was roughly a meter or so. He tested a one-hand hilt, swung a two-handed hilt, before trying a one-and-a-half hand hilt. He swung it through the air, lunged, held it in a salute. It wasn't perfect. But close enough.

"This feels about right," John said, adjusting his grip.

"Well then, now the fun can start," Sherlock said.

"The fun?" John turned only to find Sherlock's very real sword centimeters from his face.

"Engarde, brigand!" Sherlock cried. "No one board's Yellowbeard's vessel and leaves alive."

"Ah, pirates," John said, gamely exchanging test blows. "Can't say I really played them as a child."

"Well, considering you have a good bit of swordplay down, you must think of a name for yourself," Sherlock said.

"The Daring Watson?" John suggested with a smile.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Imagination, John. Something more original. Something to inspire fear in the hearts of rival pirates."

As they fought, John allowed his mind to consider it. There was Blackbeard from history. Dread Pirate Roberts of _The Princess Bride_. Captain Jack Sparrow from that Carribean series from Disney. But none fit him.

He considered his keyblade: Healing Warrior. No, doubtful that it'd strike fear into hearts.

Then his mind turned to a favorite classic from childhood, _The Hobbit_. Might one of his childhood friends lend a name? Oakenshield or a wizard's title wouldn't do. But what title might Bilbo have been granted, especially those who fell to Sting in battle. "Deadly Phantom," he whispered.

"What?" Sherlock asked, pausing.

John gave him what he'd heard some call his dangerous smile. "You have met your match, oh dreadful Yellowbeard," he said dropping into character. "For this day you face the Deadly Phantom!"

"I've never heard of such a name," Yellowbeard declared.

"Might you wonder why then?" Phantom taunted.

John lost track of time as they clashed and parried, tossing pirate insults and taunts at each other.

"To the plank, ye scurvy dog!" Phantom cried.

"Thanks to a stubborn healer, I've never had scurvy!" Yellowbeard snapped.

"A squid has more brains!" Yellowbeard declared.

"Ah, met Davy Jones have you?" Phantom taunted. "Get ready for a second meeting!"

Finally, Sherlock disarmed him, though surprisingly it had been a close thing. They sprawled on the gym floor, smiling and chuckling as they caught their breath.

"Good show," Sherlock said eventually, breathing hard. "Not bad for a first game of pirates."

"Watched films with pirates," John said.

"And what exactly is the connection between squids and Davy Jones?"

"_Pirates of the Carribean_. They portrayed him as having tentacles for his hair and beard."

"Ghastly. How is that even probable?"

"How can an entire crew live for decades if not centuries beyond their time because of some cursed coins? It's just part of the story. It doesn't need to make sense in the usual way."

They were quiet for awhile aside from their evening breaths.

"Have you learned anything more of your family?" Sherlock asked.

"Ira and Invi," John answered. "But I doubt we'll find those names anywhere. They could have dropped their child at an orphanage for all I know."

"So anywhere anonymously."

"Like any number of babies through the years. I might as well be descended from Oliver Twist."

"Highly unlikely as he is not only a fictional character but he also reunited with his blood relatives."

"Oh, shut up, Sherlock," John grumbled.

They were silent again. Then, "Have you tried summoning your keyblade outside your dreams?"

John sighed. "No. A part of me is fearful of some consequence if I do it too soon."

"Very well. I would love to examine the real thing when I am able."

"I'll keep it in mind."

* * *

It had been dreamless. Somehow he knew he hadn't been dreaming before this. He struggled to focus on the voice. "What?"

"It's here. I can help you no longer. It's here."

John sat bolt upright, panting. He couldn't explain the fear that filled him. He dressed quickly before heading downstairs. It was still dark out, and he didn't see his flatmate anywhere. He jotted down a note that he was going for a walk. He made sure he had his phone, then headed out into the streets.

He walked aimlessly, trying to clear his head and understand why he felt so afraid. What had that voice said? Why hadn't he trained before?

He stopped when his foot mounted a single step. He looked up to see a cathedral. Soft light glowed dimly from the windows. Ancient saints stood in shadowed alcoves.

_"It is not your concern to know the religions of other worlds,"_ the voice echoed in memory. _"What is your concern is your relationship with the Master in your own world."_

As if drawn by an unseen force, John entered the looming building. He had grown up with many elements of the Christian faith. He even knew the darkness of the confessional box . . . and the empty dirtiness that still lingered after he left. Something inside him wanted more, but what? His military career had made it difficult to believe there was a god, even as his studies of the intricate human body told him Someone had to be behind such complexities.

He settled into a middle pew, his eyes roving over the lit candles and ornate crosses. Then his eyes settled on the central cross, the cross that bore a crucified man.

_"I prefer the empty cross," Williams, an old army comrade, said. It was after a long trek and the boys wanted a distraction. So they turned to the man least like the rest of them. The one who kept his talk clean and never smoked or drank. A man who wore an empty cross beside his dogtags._

_"Why's that?" Engel asked._

_"Because my Lord is no longer on the cross," Williams answered. "He's not even in the grave they laid Him in. He's at the right hand of the Father, praying for me, for you, everyone. And He's waiting for us at the Gates when one of His adopted siblings come home."_

_It was only a week later that John found himself tending Williams, trying to keep him from bleeding out. His last words now echoed in his ears, the sounds of war faded. "It's alright, Doc. I can see Him. He's reaching for me. Calling me Home."_

John trailed the gold chain through his fingers. He had claimed the cross to send back to Williams's family since they couldn't have his body. Only a couple days later, John had been shot and sent back. He had forgotten about the solid gold, empty cross until he'd found it tucked away in a pocket. Then his life had gone almost non-stop with running after Sherlock, leaving him forgetful of the necklace during the rare downtime.

He sighed, propping his wrists on the pew back before him. "Williams didn't fear death," he said quietly. " I doubt he would have feared this coming Darkness. How could he do it? I had thought myself a good man until I met him. He proved me wrong. What made him different?" He sighed. "Is it even proper to be asking you this without a priest or some patron saint?"

A Bible passage pressed on his mind. Finding a Bible in the pew he looked it up. "Mark 15:37 and 38," he murmured. "Ah. 'And Jesus cried with a loud voice, and gave up the ghost. And the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom.' The veil of the temple," he softly repeated, searching his mind. "The-the curtain that separated the people, even the priests from God's Most Holy Place. Jesus' death caused that division to be torn apart." He looked a little above the crucifix. "You mean, when Your Son died . . . there was no need for separation between You and mankind. No need for any other mediator?" A childhood memory came back. "Jesus came so He could save the world and give us all everlasting life. All we need to do is believe."

His eyes rested on the ornate cross for just a moment before returning his eyes to the plain, empty cross hanging from his fingers. "I may do this all wrong," he said, "but I heard Williams talk to You a couple times. Sorry if it was bad form. But I'm just going to speak my mind, like he did.

"I'm a bad man. I usually don't consider myself as such, at least until I remember Williams. I want what You gave him. I want that peace, that fearless face. I want You to make me a good man. I don't care about greatness. I want to be a good man.

"I don't know all the rules really, but I want to start. I'm not even sure I have the faith, but help me make up the difference. Something inside tells me, I can't face this Darkness alone. Please," tears leaked out as a presence settled around him, "please, take me into Your family. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

A familiar yet foreign presence wrapped around him, overwhelmed him. Yet as his throat stopped up, his heart took up the cry. Then between one tear and the next a relief, a lightness flooded him. The troubling scent of Darkness was washed away by an unseen, unfelt wind. "Thank you. Thank you." He smiled broadly as he lightly held Williams's cross up. "And thank Williams for me. His words and life bore fruit."

The presence lingered, not as strong as before. John breathed deeply, catching his spiraling emotions.

"Are you alright, my son?"

He looked up to see the priest. "Yes. My apologies for disturbing you, Father."

"No trouble," the elder answered. "How did you enter? I was certain I locked the doors."

John paused in standing. How had–? He faintly smiled as he looked at the cross in his hand. Looking up he said, "I guess the Lord opened the doors. He knew I needed to come in."

The father smiled. "And I can see in your eyes that you found the peace you needed."

John nodded. "Good night, Father." He tucked the cross in his pocket as he walked out. Descending the outer steps, an image pressed upon his mind's eye. The familiar platform, yet it seemed to glow a touch brighter and there were now two figures. John, himself, but now he stood, his pistol in his right hand and his keyblade in his left. And shoulder to shoulder facing up and outward, a Jewish Man in His early thirties wielding both a great, shining sword and a shield large enough to protect the both of them. His eyes twinkled despite their seriousness even as His laughing mouth betrayed the deadly consequences of crossing Him.

John smiled, touching his heart. Everything was changed.

He jolted as his phone sounded off. "Hello?"

"John! Where are you?" Sherlock demanded, worry touching his voice.

"I went for a walk." He looked about. "And apparently lost my way. I'll catch a cab back."

"Head over to New Scotland Yard. Did you bring your gun?"

"Uh, no," John answered, failing to find it.

"I'll grab it for you," Sherlock said.

"What's going on?" John asked as he hailed a cab. He gave the cabby the destination as he settled in.

"Lestrade says something odd is happening," Sherlock said. "Refused to give details. I'll see you at the station."

John took a deep breath as the call disconnected. Something in his gut told him it had started. "Well, Father, it's started, and I'll no doubt need You beside me."

* * *

John stood half-frozen beside Sherlock as he stared into the blocked intersection. They were real, no longer just creatures from his dreams. Shadow Heartless twitched all over the roads. A few dozen at least.

"They just appeared out of nowhere," Greg said from the other side of Sherlock. "And we're starting to get reports about missing people."

"You're looking at them," John said. "Shadow Heartless formed from the Darkness in people's hearts."

"What?" Greg asked.

"John has been receiving special training," Sherlock said. "I've also been researching. Apparently a gaming company in Japan got insider information. These Shadows are a weaker form of Heartless, though there may be stronger forms to come or in other parts of London. They are searching for the heart of the world in order to drag all into Darkness."

"You've gone mad," Greg said in shock.

"Unfortunately, he's quite sane," John said. "I've spent the last two months preparing for this because apparently I have the credentials to deal with them." He glanced at Sherlock. "Have your sword?"

Sherlock looked at him as though John had called him stupid. "Of course I do."

"A sword?" Sally demanded.

"Feel free to try your guns," John said, flexing and shaking his left hand. "But considering my own weapon, I doubt it'll do much." He turned to Sherlock. "Where's the heart?"

"That I haven't deduced," Sherlock said, taking his sword from the box he had insisted on bringing with them in the police car. "Considering it's in London, I'd say one of the tourist attractions is the location."

"Greg, have people keep a watch on such locations as Big Ben, Tower of London, the Eye, and Buckingham Palace," John said. "We should probably call Mycroft and get him on surveillance as well. We need to know where these creatures start congregating."

"We also may have Nobodies wandering about, the deformed husks," Sherlock added.

John nodded. He took a deep breath and released it as he closed his eyes to concentrate. His dream made it so easy.

"Wait!" Sally demanded. "We're killing them?! We're killing people?!"

"No," John snapped. "We're destroying the monsters that took over them."

"Once both Heartless and Nobody are destroyed the person will be restored," Sherlock said. "It's either destroy these beasts or more people will fall prey to them. John, let's go."

John reached to his heart, summoning his heart's strength. A familiar grip and weight settled in his hand. Healing Warrior looked even more magnificent then he ever saw in his dreams. He ignored the stares as he turned to Sherlock. "Observe it later," he said. Then he swung over the concrete barrier.

The Heartless weren't as easy to cut down as in his visions. Sherlock took twice as long to defeat them. The bullets from the police force helped them decrease in strength. It was possibly a good hour before the area was cleared. But John refused to let his guard down. This was just the beginning.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Wow. Didn't realize just how big this first chapter was until I spied the word count. But there was also a lot of ground to cover.

I studied a couple clips from _Kingdom Hearts_ to get John's final choosing right, and then I threw in a reference to Martin Freeman's other popular role just cause I could. :-) If I got something wrong concerning _Pirates of the Carribean_, it would be because my knowledge only extends to the series' involvement in _Kingdom Hearts_.

And a special thank you to my friend, GoodShipSherlollipop, who inspired me to be unrepentant for including my faith in my stories. Anyone interested in Sherlock stories, especially featuring Sherlolly, go visit her and read her awesome stories.

None of this is "Brit-picked" though I did my best. Please tell me what you think. Hope you enjoyed.


	2. New Allies

Three long days and they were still fighting. John felt overwhelmed by the sheer number. He had noticed Sherlock's concern as some of his Homeless Network disappeared. The detective tried to brush it aside as them hiding, but John suspected Sherlock knew the truth. Members of the police force had disappeared. Some of the prisons reported high concentrations of Heartless in their walls. John refused to call Harry for fear of not hearing anything.

He half-collapsed as he struck another Heartless down, watching as another twinkling heart rose up into the sky.

"John!" Sherlock ran over to him, shielding his exposed side as the retired captain leaned against the wall.

"We need help, Sherlock," John said. "We need more keyblades. We need a way to get to the root of the problem."

"Look out!" a new voice shouted.

John barely had time to cry out before a silver-haired man sliced a larger, rotund Heartless near in half. No, he was a teen. An older teen but still. He half-twisted, his blue-green eyes sweeping over them. "You two okay?"

"John's winded," Sherlock said. "Can you and your companion take care of the rest?"

"Sure thing," he said. He then was off, zipping around the small park.

John watched as he saw ice and fire fly from the two new keyblades. Water swept up one group of heartless shortly before the shorter keyblade wielder (who looked suspiciously like Mickey Mouse) somehow caused them all to stop in their tracks. John certainly hadn't been taught any of this.

The young man cried out seconds before he crashed back into a brick wall. He landed in a limp heap, blood staining his white-grey hair.

"No!" John cried.

At roughly the same moment, the other keyblade wielder shouted, "Curaga!"

Green light wrapped around the boy as a giant flower bloomed over him, sending sparks trickling down. Even before the light faded, the boy was getting up and coiling to spring forward.

John collapsed back in equal parts relieved and amazed.

"Remarkable," Sherlock said.

"A miracle," John agreed. A few minutes later, all the Heartless were taken care of. John levered himself up and approached their new allies. "I want to thank you both for your help," he said. "And, young man, I'm a doctor and I want to quickly check your head injury."

"Uh, okay," the teen said, confused. But he leaned forward, allowing John to examine the back of his head.

John was amazed to find that despite a faint blood stain, there was no other sign of his potentially fatal injury.

"The healing spell always works 100%," the other keyblade wielder said.

"Thank goodness for that," John said. "Dr. John Watson."

"Riku," the young man said. He smelled vaguely of Darkness, but it was a caged Darkness.

"Mickey," the meter tall mouse said.

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said. "You are Keyblade Masters?"

"Yep," Mickey said. "Riku just passed his Mark of Mastery less than a week ago."

"Congratulations," John said.

"Thanks," Riku said, his lips twitching in a smile. "Just started?"

"About two months in some visions," John said. "Practiced with a sword nearly as long. Practical practice almost nonstop for the past seventy-two hours."

"Wow," Mickey said. "You haven't taken a break at all?"

"I made sure that he's slept at least a couple hours a night," Sherlock said. "We have yet to find our world's heart or how to properly defend it."

"It also worries me that we haven't seen any . . . what did you say they were?"

"Nobodies."

"It's not unusual for Nobodies or Heartless to be absent," Riku said. "Sometimes they separate completely."

"You mean the Nobodies of the Heartless we see here may have gone to other worlds?" Sherlock asked.

Riku and Mickey froze, glancing at each other.

"We both know about other worlds," John said. "Actually, while I focused on my keyblade training, he focused on research. Thus how we know about Nobodies."

"Okay, you can explain how you were able to do that later," Mickey said. "What are some possible locations for this world's keyhole?"

"Based on the simple fact John was chosen, it is somewhere in London," Sherlock said. "We suspect Big Ben, Tower of London, the Eye, or Buckingham Palace."

"Any connections with Wonderland or Neverland?" Riku asked.

"Last I knew they're only children's stories," John answered.

"So doubtful that it would be Big Ben," Mickey said.

"I probably should have guessed since this London feels different from the London I visited," Riku said, musing.

Sherlock's phone rang. "Hello? Molly? What's wrong?"

John turned. Relief and fear ran through him in equal measures. Relief that Molly was alright; fear that it could soon change.

"Where are you?" Sherlock asked. "We'll be there as soon as possible." He hung up even as he said, "The Heartless are congregating at St. Barts."

"Right," John said. He turned to Riku and Mickey. "You two coming?"

"'Course," Riku said.

"Always ready to lend a helping hand," Mickey said.

"We'll take a cab," Sherlock said, hailing the transport.

It was a bit of a tight squeeze but manageable. To keep his anxiety down, John said, "I noticed the fire and ice things you were doing."

"Yeah, magic," Riku answered. "You didn't learn any spells?"

"I guess I didn't have time," John said.

"Here," Mickey said. He held out two swirling balls of red and blue. Upon holding them, the red almost burned while the blue felt wet. "These are level one fire and water spells. More experience and ethers will help them level up."

"And the healing?" Sherlock asked.

"Here," Riku said, a softly glowing petal and small ornate bottle in his hand. "It's Cure and an elixir. A potion is a quick fix to boost strength and energy, but the healing spell and elixir have more lasting results, especially if you also allow for natural healing time."

As soon as John held the petal his weariness melted away, his strength returning. "Now this is what I've been needing the past few days," John said.

"Might the fire and water pellets be shot through a firearm?" Sherlock asked.

"We've never tried it," Mickey said.

"Once we've taken care of Barts, I'll have to run some experiments," Sherlock said. "We have some allies on the police force who could use an upgrade."

"We'll see what we can do to help," Mickey promised.

A moment later they arrived at the hospital. John barely paused to pay the cabbie before he raced after Sherlock, Riku and Mickey close behind the doctor. "Did Molly say where she was?" John asked.

"Her usual floor," Sherlock answered.

"Lift or stairs?" John asked.

"Lift," Sherlock said. "So long as it's quick," he added in a low, agitated voice.

If John didn't know better, he'd believe Sherlock was showing some sentiment. The lift was almost too slow for the detective's liking, causing him to pace and mutter in an agitated fashion, glaring at the buttons, and drilling calculating glares at the emergency hatch.

John could feel that agitation, as well as smell the Darkness that they were drawing closer to.

"How bad is it?" Sherlock snapped. "You've run your hand under your nose three times in the past two minutes."

"Either lack of ventilation or it's bad," John answered.

"But not a boss or mini boss Heartless," Riku added.

"And thankfully none of the Organization," Mickey said.

John was half-surprised Sherlock didn't ask about this "Organization." Then the doors opened. The detective bolted down the hall, nearly leaving John and the others behind. Seconds later, they burst into one of the laboratories.

John's jaw dropped. Molly had a keyblade, a keyblade that was just barely holding back a half-dozen Neo-Shadows.

"Sherlock! John!" Molly shouted.

John raced round the counters as Sherlock _vaulted_ over them.

Molly screamed as she tripped over a stool behind her.

"No!" Sherlock half-landed, half-slid in front of her, his cutlass in a defensive position. A bright light flashed, half-blinding John and sending the Neo-Shadows a good two meters away.

"Wow!" Mickey cried.

John slashed through the creatures who were decidedly too close to him and his friends. He vaguely saw Sherlock help Molly to her feet before they rejoined the battle alongside Riku and Mickey. Between the five of them, they made quick work of the Heartless.

John caught himself on a counter as he turned to the pathologist. "You alright?" he asked.

She nodded. "They broke from their cages and I panicked a bit." She awkwardly chuckled as she held up her keyblade. "Never summoned a keyblade before in real life."

An angel wing made the shaft while the teeth were two gold swords crossed together. What looked like white suede wrapped the hilt. Golden angels holding swords to their chests created the guards. The charm was a golden sword sprouting a pair of white angel wings. _Avenging Angel_.

"But you have in dreams," John guessed.

"Yeah," she answered. "Same as you and Sherlock?"

"John, yes," Sherlock said. "Me, no."

"What did you mean about those Heartless being in cages?" Riku asked.

"We were asked to study them by an anonymous donor," Molly answered. "And you are?"

"Riku and Mickey," the young man answered.

John blinked. While there were lingering traces of Darkness, none were coming from Molly. In fact, it was as if the Darkness slipped around her like stream water around a stone. "There's no Darkness around you," he murmured.

She startled a bit before her brows furrowed. "Nor you."

Sherlock looked between the two of them, perturbed. "What is happening?"

"Everyone has at least some degree of Darkness," Mickey explained. "It's rare to discover anyone without at least a trace, much less two on the same world."

"I may have cheated," John said. "I just recently became a Christian a few days ago."

Molly gasped, joyful amazement in her features. "I've been a Christian since I was a little girl!"

"You never told me this," Sherlock said petulantly.

"It was just hours before the Heartless invaded," John said.

"And it never came up," Molly said. "I guess I may have even thought you could deduce it."

"Fine," Sherlock said, still pouting. He twiddled his sword–

"You got a keyblade!" John cried.

A miniature Belstaff hung from the keychain while the hilt and shaft had a violin appearance. The guards suspiciously resembled the infamous deerstalker, and the key's teeth was a knotted blue scarf. _Deducing Consultant_.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "Though I'm not sure how. Irritating when there's no logic behind it."

"They are dependent upon the strength of one's heart," Mickey answered. "Also of the Light that is present."

"Ties between friends also plays a part," Riku said.

"Well, I've repeatedly been told I don't have a heart," Sherlock said. "And I don't have friends."

"Really?" John quirked a smile. "I believe it was just a few months ago that you introduced me as your friend to someone, and you don't just risk your safety for just anyone. In fact, I would say you were quite agitated after Molly phoned for our help."

Sherlock floundered for a moment, nothing coming out of his moving mouth. He then turned from them like a petulant child. "Shut up," he said, the snap a touch weak.

"Any clues as to who asked you to study the Shadows and why?" Mickey asked. "They sound dangerous."

"Nothing," Molly said. "Two nights ago, these cages," she indicated a row of four cages, "were delivered with an electronically printed letter asking us to see if they can be restored to their former state or strengthened. I have been in charge of them since that time."

John stepped toward the cages, examining them, Sherlock just a stepped behind. Three looked as though they had exploded, black wisps faintly rising like fading smoke. The fourth was still intact with a weak Shadow cowering in the corner. "Had they all started like this one?" John asked, pointing to the creature.

"No," Molly answered. "All of them came in the state you saw them."

Big yellow eyes turned to the door. It froze staring before leaping at John.

He jumped back, brandishing his keyblade.

But the creature hit the barred door, falling back. It actually started to cry.

"John, what are you waiting for?" Sherlock asked.

"I-I don't know," John said. "Something feels different about this."

Riku came closer, touching the top of the cage as he leaned close. "She wasn't turned into a Heartless the usual way. Someone made her into one."

John stared, "How do you–?"

"I was immersed in Darkness for a time," Riku answered. "I can understand them to a degree." He gave the Heartless a hard look before he reached for the latch. "She's assured me she won't attack."

"And you can trust its word how?" Sherlock asked.

"One of my best friends became a Heartless voluntarily to save a mutual friend. He never hurt anyone." Riku opened the door.

The Heartless half-melted to slither out of the cage and down the front of the counter. It paused, reforming. Then it leaped at John, latching onto his lower right leg.

John half-shuffled back as his friends cried out, but he froze at the voice he half-heard, half-felt: "Johnny!"

"Harry," he gasped. He fell to his left knee so he could rest a hand on her almost non-existent shoulders.

"Bad man come. Say I hurt Johnny," she said brokenly. "Never hurt Johnny."

"Do you know him?" John asked.

"Don't know name," Harry answered, crying and clinging to his leg like a terrified child.

"John?" Sherlock asked, stepping closer.

John looked up at his friend. "It's Harry. Someone made her turn into this to hurt me."

"Who?"

"A bad man. That's all she can tell me."

"Riku," Molly asked, "did you have to destroy your friend when he became a Heartless?"

"No, our mutual friend is a Princess of Heart. Her Light brought him back from the Darkness," Riku answered.

"Might John and I be able to do the same?"

"I don't know. You at least seem to have enough Light."

"We have to try," John said, refusing to acknowledge his stinging eyes. "I can't hurt her." He jumped as several Heartless boiled-popped into existence.

With the tan, light plaid deerstalker and trench-coat from some Victorian era, John recognized them as Detectives. At least, that was what Greg had dubbed them.

"Oh, marvelous," Sherlock growled. "Let's get to a more open place. Last thing we need are some chemical explosions."

"The exam room," Molly said.

"Right, this way." Sherlock took off.

John scooped Harry up, hugging her to his chest as they all raced out. He swiped away a couple Heartless that got too close. But in the hall, he tripped. He cried out as he landed on his right knee. Of course it had to be his bad one, psychosomatic or not. He tried to get up but found his muscles refusing to cooperate.

Harry squeaked, hugging his neck.

He looked back to see the Heartless almost on top of them. John wrapped himself around his sister, tucking his head in. Seconds before he felt up to a dozen Heartless pile on him. They wouldn't have his sister. Never.

* * *

Author's Note: And here is where the _Kingdom Hearts_ characters arrive. :-) Admittedly, Riku had to work hard to become one of my favorite characters, but I think that I always loved the mentor and student/father and son dynamic that developed between Riku and Mickey. For those of you familiar with the games, this is just at the start of _Kingdom Hearts 3_, between their leaving Yen Sid and actually entering the Realm of Darkness for the first time. Timeline for Sherlock fans: this occurs during the undocumented six months in Scandal in Belgravia, aka between The Woman revealing she's not dead and her reappearance at 221B.

One thing that I could never figure out from the games was how the keyblades were named. So, I decided to go with a personal theory that a keyblade wielder just automatically knows what the keyblade is called, like a sixth sense.

Headcanon of Molly being a Christian was inspired and heavily influenced by GoodShipSherlollipop. And if you haven't gone to visit her after seeing my recommendations on my profile and the last chapter: go check out her amazing stories!

Now, I hope that this cliffhanger isn't too cruel. What do you think will happen? Any theories of who this anonymous donor was? Reactions to Molly, and now Sherlock, getting keyblades? Ideas of who forced Harry to turn into a Heartless? Where do you think the world's heart/keyhole is located? (Maybe I'll mention who got who and location right in the reveal chapter(s).) Until next time. :-)


	3. Regrouping

John groaned as he regained consciousness. He was laying on something cold and hard with a semi-thick something shielding him from the worst of it. He blinked his eyes open.

"Cure spells don't provide endless energy."

John's eyes finally focused to see Riku standing beside him, Sherlock on the other side sans coat and scarf. "What happened?"

"You passed out from exhaustion, and you are currently in the exam room," Sherlock answered.

"Harry! Where is she?" He struggled to get up, half-slipping when Sherlock's coat (that was what he was laying on) slid on the smooth, metal tabletop.

"Easy, easy," Riku said, catching his shoulders. "She's okay."

"Actually better than okay," a new voice said. Harry stood there, barefoot, wearing a loose sleep shirt and sleep shorts, her dirty blonde hair falling messily about her shoulders.

"Harry." John grabbed her, hugged her tight. "Harry, I was so worried. I didn't call because I was afraid –" He shuddered, tightening his hold on her. His worst fear had been realized, but somehow, she'd been restored back to him.

"It's okay, Johnny," she said, hugging him. "Everything's okay. I don't know how you did it, but you managed to turn me back."

"His Light did it," Mickey said. "When he protected you from those other Heartless, it pushed the Darkness away and called you back to the Realm of Light."

"I'm still confused about what's going on and what the deal is with these weird weapons," Harry said, lightly tapping John's back.

John reluctantly released his sister. "Our weapons are keyblades, the quickest way to destroy the Heartless," he explained. "Admittedly, 'key' seems to be a stretch considering the designs."

"Heartless, a form of Darkness, have invaded our world," Sherlock picked up the explanation. "We are trying to locate our world's heart before they do so that we can lock them out."

"And I'm still hazy on how we do that," John said.

"Unfortunately, my research didn't say," Sherlock said.

"How exactly could you research it?" Riku asked. "My friends and I had to learn from experience."

"A Japanese gaming company," Sherlock said. "Though I suspect you and your companion don't have much experience with technology." Then he was in deduction mode. "You have the distinct scent of saline and tropical flora about your person. You are also smoothly tanned aside from your lower legs, and seeing as there is a lack of sand, the outfit is a recent acquisition since leaving your home islands. You are especially hale and hearty, indicating an active lifestyle, unusual for young people your age with technology at their fingertips. You were accustomed to fighting with sticks and wooden swords up until a few years ago, a couple scars left by especially large splinters. And considering your weak left wrist, you are second only to one, who cracked that wrist in a fight.

"Mickey could possibly have some technological experience, though rather limited considering the ink stains on his gloves. Such stains tend to be reserved to artists, especially calligraphers. But considering his position as a Keyblade Master, I doubt he'd pick up such a hobby, much less indulge in it when the worlds are in danger. Thus, he regularly writes correspondence with a quill pen. Highly impractical if one has the technology to do otherwise."

John bit back a groan as Riku and Mickey mildly glared at Sherlock.

"Molly, do you have a computer linked to a research web?" Mickey asked.

"Right here," Molly said. She spun a stool to a taller height before helping the mouse onto it so he could comfortably reach the laptop. "I believe the company Sherlock referred to was Square Enix. I actually referenced their game series _Kingdom Hearts_ as a starting point in my own research."

Mickey scowled at the keyboard as he carefully pecked the keys. "I'm used to larger keys because of my fingers," he said.

"You can use the mouse to select one of the search results, or you can touch the screen," Molly said.

"Hm, Chip and Dale haven't quite figured out how to make a touch screen yet," Mickey said. He touched the surface. "Wow."

"Think we can link it to the gummiphone?" Riku asked.

John turned to see Riku fiddling with a clunky mobile phone.

"I can have a look," Harry said.

John quirked a smile at the flummoxed detective. "It would appear they aren't as backward as you thought."

"Oh, and I'm not the second best on the islands," Riku said, his aqua eyes ice. "That would be Sora after me."

"And we do have the technology to type and print letters," Mickey added, "but I prefer the personal touch, especially for friends."

"Burn!" Harry drew out in a low voice. Perking up she said, "Here you go, Riku."

"Thanks, Harry," he said, taking the phone back. "Wow, they have a lot of information."

"Yeah," Mickey said. "There's also a lot of talk about a third coming out."

"Yet half-a-dozen spinoffs," Riku noted. An eyebrow rose. "How do they know so much about us?"

"Maybe Master Yen Sid would know," Mickey said.

A wild idea came to John. "Is there anything about Ira, Invi, or a Keyblade War?" he asked.

Everyone but Sherlock stared at him. Finally–

"I'll look up Ira and Invi," Riku said.

"I'll continue to see if there are any clues for where the heart is," Mickey said.

"Who are Ira and Invi?" Harry asked leaning against the table as John twisted round to sit sideways.

"Our ancestors apparently, who were part of the first Keyblade War," John answered, dangling his feet to the floor. "I don't know much aside from their having a baby who they left to another family on our world."

"I-I was told much the same," Molly said. "We are distantly related then."

"Unusual turn of events," Sherlock said.

"They were two of five foretellers apprenticed to the Master of Masters," Riku said. "There isn't much else, but they do have a couple pictures." He handed John the phone.

Both people wore robes of light blue and white. Invi wore a mask with a snake draped about it, hiding much of her face. The same was true of Ira, though his mask was a unicorn. With a wry smile John noted that none of their looks, as far as he could make out, had passed to him. Though Molly could have traces of Invi's lower face.

"Computer generated, not likely to be a reliable reference," Sherlock said.

"Well, it's the closest we have," John said offering the phone to Molly once Harry was done.

"So are they why you and Molly have those . . . keyblades?" Harry asked.

"That's what I was told," Molly said as John nodded.

"And did they give you any clues for finding the heart?" Harry asked.

"I didn't know to ask," John answered.

"I didn't think to," Molly said.

"We are watching various tourist attractions," Sherlock said. "And Mycroft is surveying CCTV for any deliberate gathering of Heartless."

"Good idea," Mickey said. "And it seems that there are no indications here or notes on how to lock the heart. I guess it's a good thing Riku and I came. Now, I want to know how Harry was turned and who was behind it."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't recognize him. Maybe half-a-head taller than John. Close-cut black hair. He was surprisingly polite and soft-spoken for being a psychopath."

John's heart clenched. "Did he mention me or Sherlock?"

"He wanted me to hurt you," Harry said, hugging herself. "He said it would be a bonus if it created a wedge between you and your roommate."

John rolled his eyes. "Flatmate, not roommate. Though I may have an idea of who he is."

"Yes," Sherlock said. "Molly, do you have a photo of that Jim fellow?"

"We only went out three times before I ended it," Molly said. "Hardly enough time to get selfies or pictures together."

"Hospital security cameras?" John asked.

"Possibly," Molly said.

"We might as well call Mycroft," Sherlock said.

John again rolled his eyes as his phone rang. "Hello?"

"John, where are you and Sherlock?" Greg asked.

"St. Barts," John answered. "Molly called us about a situation which I believe is under control now."

"Come down to the station when able," Greg said. "There's a package for you and Sherlock."

"For both of us?"

"Yes. But something feels a bit too familiar about it."

"Yeah, I understand. We'll be right over." John hung up. "Greg said we have a package waiting at New Scotland Yard." He turned to Riku and Mickey. "Greg Lestrade is a Detective Inspector that we work with on a usual basis."

"One of the people who could potentially benefit if spells can be used in a firearm?" Riku asked.

"Yeah," John said, hopping down. His legs wobbled but he forced himself to straighten. "Harry, I want you to come to the station with us and stay there. It's the safest place I know of."

"Molly's coming too," Sherlock said, whisking his coat and scarf back on.

John stared at his friend in surprise. When had he started being so sentimental?

"I can't just up and leave, Sherlock," Molly protested. "I'm still in the middle of my shift."

"And I don't want to lose my pathologist," Sherlock returned, striding over to her. Hooking a hand round her elbow he added as he half-led, half-dragged her out, "Those Heartless were a little too determined to get their claws into you. I'd rather you be where I or someone I trust can keep an eye on you."

John just stared after them a moment. Then–

"A bit out of the norm, huh?" Mickey asked, jumping down.

"Yeah," Harry said. "From what I heard, he tends to be more of a machine than a human."

"Well, the very fact he has a keyblade is evidence of a heart," Riku said. "You sure you're alright, Dr. Watson?"

"Just John," he answered. "And I'm fine. Let's catch up with Sherlock." As he led the way after the quickly retreating detective and pathologist, John tried not to think about what could potentially be waiting for them at New Scotland Yard.

* * *

**Author's Note**: And we officially meet Harry Watson, at least my version of her. And Sherlock performs some deductions . . . and possibly put his foot in his mouth because of it.

Still nothing definite on who turned Harry into a Heartless. _But_ . . . we might find out next chapter. Those who wish to venture a guess still have a chance. Any theories as to what could be in this package at NSY? Guesses for where the world's heart are still welcome. :-)


	4. A Silver Tablet

John fought down the feelings of guilt as they traveled through the largely deserted Underground stations. It had been decided that they take the tube since their company had grown. There were very few actually waiting or riding. _They are just at home, deciding to play it safe, and not venture out more than necessary,_ he tried to convince himself. He wasn't sure if it was working.

As they entered New Scotland Yard, he tried to ignore the empty spaces, tell himself that they were busy elsewhere. Anything to escape the feeling that he had let them down somehow.

"What's with all these people?" Sally Donovan demanded. "Why is a kid here and . . . is that a _mouse_?"

"Sally, Dr. Molly Hooper, Harry Watson, Mickey Mouse, and Riku," Sherlock said breezily. "Dr. Hooper and Ms. Watson are here for their protection. Mr. Mouse and Riku are Keyblade Masters, here to help with the Heartless infestation. Now, Geoff called to say there was a package for John and myself."

"_Greg_ is in his office," Donovan answered.

Sherlock nodded before heading that direction.

John gave an apologetic smile. "Would you mind making sure Molly and my sister are comfortable, Sally?" he asked.

She huffed a breath. "Since you asked, I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," John said, then he followed after Sherlock.

Sherlock was already examining the package.

"Anything?" John asked.

"High probability of a second Great Game," Sherlock said, half-distracted. He finally slit the package open with a knife. An electronic tablet slid out. The protective cover was mostly black with a silver logo. "Kingdom Hearts merchandise," Sherlock said. "Either regularly cared for or just recently bought. No scuffs or scratches. Not even a fingerprint."

The tablet lit up, announcing a message received.

Sherlock opened it.

John stood beside him as the message showed seven small flames overcome by thirteen black shadows. Then a video recording. The soldier in John took over as Moriarty smirked through the screen.

"Hello-oh," he sang. "Did the pet enjoy the gift I left for him? Who finished her, I wonder? Was it the pet or the master?"

John clenched and unclenched his fists. How he wished to punch that beast in the face. Maybe even a well-placed kick.

"These creatures are so serviceable, these Heartless," Moriarty went on. "I do believe I'll

create an army of them and storm the House of Parliament, maybe even Buckingham Palace, and claim England. Oh, but why think small when I can overcome the world?

"But before that, I shall see you burn. Oh, or maybe I'll save you til last, just so you can see how unstoppable I have become. The Darkness does my bidding. Might you and your pet join its ranks?" The message ended.

John breathed deep, trying to control his anger. He started at Greg's cry: "Sherlock!" He turned and jumped.

Tendrils of Darkness drifted from the detective like smoke.

The tense anger melted away from his face as Sherlock took in the black wisps. A terror set in.

John shouted, "Riku! Mickey!"

The teen and mouse were there as though waiting outside the door. Riku snatched the tablet and tossed it aside as Greg scrambled to catch it. "Sherlock, focus on me," Riku ordered, grasping his shoulders. "Leave it behind."

Sherlock gasped out, "But how did . . . ?"

"Focus, the Darkness can't have you," Riku said. "Own it. Acknowledge it, then cage it. Don't fight it."

Sherlock's fingers flew to his temples, his eyes squeezed shut. His eyes darted about as his hands subtly twitched. A moment later, the Dark tendrils disappeared. He slowly relaxed, leaving his Mind Palace. "It's in its own room," he said.

"What happened?" Mickey asked.

"We got a message from Moriarty," John said. "He is Sherlock's opposite in every sense of the word, aside from intelligence. And right now, he's gathering an army of Heartless so he can take over England and possibly the world."

"That's the idea of a moron," Riku said, stepping back. "I should know. The Darkness will overtake _him_."

"Can we see the message?" Mickey asked.

Greg looked to John and Sherlock.

"They're on our side and experts when it comes to Heartless," John said.

"Oh, sorry," Mickey said, holding out a hand. "Mickey Mouse. And my pal, Riku."

"Greg Lestrade," Greg answered, shaking his hand. He then handed the tablet over.

As the message started playing again, John approached Sherlock again. "You okay, mate?"

Sherlock nodded although he still looked shell-shocked. "I don't know what happened. Hate that."

"About the same level as Maleficent," Riku said, "but creepier somehow."

"Any idea what the light and shadow display was about?" John asked.

"It's what's needed to make the keyblade," Mickey said.

"But there are multiple keyblades," John said.

"Not 'k-e-y,'" Riku said. "'X' pronounced 'key' or 'kye.' It's an ancient symbol and it's been claimed by an organization as its defining mark. But that is unimportant."

"The X-blade is the ultimate keyblade," Mickey said. "The keyblade to reveal Kingdom Hearts. It is said to be formed by the clashing of seven representatives of Light and thirteen representatives of Darkness."

"You've mentioned this organization several times," Sherlock said, seeming to shake his discomfort off. "What is it?"

"Organization XIII," Mickey answered. "Originally it was thirteen of the strongest Nobodies, they were actually able to keep the appearance of their Others."

"Others?" John asked.

"Who they were before becoming Heartless and Nobodies," Riku answered.

"Now, the Organization is thirteen people linked to a dark Master named Xehanort," Mickey continued.

"You mean, this master is allied with the Usurper?" John asked.

Mickey and Riku gave him confused looks. "Huh?"

John blinked. He had thought all keyblade wielders knew about him . . . it . . . whatever. "The Usurper against the Master of Lights and Glory, the one who brought Darkness to the worlds." He turned to Greg, about to explain–

"God and Satan," Greg said. "Similar enough."

"I'm used to the Christian version," Mickey said, "'cause my formative years were in a largely Christian nation when such values were considered important."

"First I heard of it," Riku said with a shrug.

"Well, back on course," Mickey said. "When you put it that way, even if he isn't directly connected, he has certainly been in the same circles as the Usurper."

"Any chance that some of his Organization is connected to Moriarty?" Greg asked.

"Hard to say," Mickey said. "But not unusual. They like creating chaos and spreading Darkness."

"Any distinguishing characteristics or uniform?" Sherlock asked.

"They all wear black coats made of a leather-like material," Mickey answered.

"Here's a picture," Riku said, holding out his phone. The figure was hooded and gloved.

"I'd imagine it is very uncomfortable in hot weather," John said.

"Ugh, tell me about it," Riku groaned. "It did manage to keep the Darkness away, but it was extremely uncomfortable on some worlds."

"You were a part of the Organization?" Greg asked.

"No," Riku answered. "I only wore their coat so I could safely navigate the Lanes of Darkness. Though I did end up playing a cat and mouse game with them at times since they called me an imposter."

"Having Mycroft scour the records of the past two months or so to find a potential match," Sherlock said, texting. "See if we can pinpoint when they arrived and follow their movements."

"_If_ they came," John said.

"It's almost guaranteed," Sherlock said. "Unless we are facing a horribly cliched turn of events that reveals he's received dreams as well, someone would have had to inform him. But aside from shock value that would be horribly boring and lazy."

"What?" John asked.

"What?" Sherlock returned.

John rolled his eyes. Honestly, Sherlock would say the oddest things at times.

"Sherlock! John!"

Molly's voice pulled both men out the door as fiercely as if it was a physical force.

Heartless were swarming the office area, seeming to target Harry and Molly. Molly was holding them off as best she could, keeping Sally and Harry behind her.

John leaped forward, just a step behind Sherlock, summoning his keyblade.

These Heartless were stronger than before. Sherlock's keyblade helped, and apparently, Molly had chosen Mage as one of her two power forms. The beasts were getting frozen, whipped into small tornadoes, and burned.

A minute or so into the fight, Riku pressed a revolver into John's right hand. "Sherlock had Mickey and I load the spells into the bullet area, said you were a crack shot."

"And he would know," John said, aiming the handgun at a Heartless. He fired.

A river swept that Heartless and several nearby into a whirlpool.

"We put Water, Air, Fire, Blizzard, Light, and Thunder spells in there," Riku said. "No idea how it will work in the long run."

"Well, we'll see," John said. He smiled a bit as he recalled what he'd seen on the stained glass of his heart. No wonder this felt right.

"Deadly Phantom!" Sherlock called a moment later. "What say ye of a truce?"

"Aye, Yellowbeard," Phantom called. "Let's send these scurvy dogs to Davey Jones Locker!"

"Permission to board, Captains," Molly called with a cheeky grin. "Bloody Mary of the dreaded Speckled Barge."

"Board and welcome," Yellowbeard returned.

John was almost certain he heard Riku groan, "And I thought Sora's obsession was bad."

John leaped over to Sherlock just as Molly did. Some sort of powerful Light surrounded them. As one they raised their keyblades to the sky. An iridescent keyblade formed above them as John's feet left the ground. "Hit the deck!" Sherlock shouted. Then as one, they brought their keyblades down, aligning with Sherlock's, forming a single blade of Light. They spun, though John wasn't quite sure how. A moment later the spell, or whatever it was, ended with decidedly far less Heartless in its wake.

Finally a few minutes later, all the Heartless were gone.

"That was an awesome power-up you did," Mickey said.

"Most intriguing, brother mine," a new voice said.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Oh, who just walked in to join the party? Secret until next time. So quite a bit more _Kingdom Hearts_ lore here, hope you enjoyed. I'll admit, Sherlock partially broke the fourth wall for a little bit. My personal admonishment not to do something as cliched as that. And we now have three pirates on the team.

I could easily see Moriarty as the sort of person to believe he can control the Heartless without the Darkness taking hold of him. Unfortunately, like some Kingdom Hearts characters found out, Riku included, the Darkness proves stronger than you think. But will this be his fate? Or will he eventually make into the courts and atop St. Barts? Give me your theories! :-)

Oh, and recognition to **GoodShipSherlollipop** and **mamabear04** who guessed that Moriarty turned Harry.

Theories about what will happen next and where the world's heart is to be found are more than welcome. Until next time.


	5. To Baker Street

John bit back a groan as he rested against a chair back for a moment. What could be expected now that Concerned Big Brother showed up?

"What are you doing here, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, resting his keyblade across his shoulders.

"Making sure you're alright," Mycroft answered. "And to personally tell you what I have observed. No fear, the wonderful recognition programs are searching for the Organization member."

"Good to know," Sherlock said. "So, what have you found?"

"The Heartless are not congregating at any of the major tourist attractions," Mycroft said. "They are more numerous at places you frequent."

"What are you saying?" John asked.

"St. Bartholomew's Hospital. New Scotland Yard. Angelo's. That little fish and chip shop. The pool where Carl Powers drowned," Mycroft answered. "They weren't attacking necessarily, but they gather and then move on, as though searching for something."

"Moriarty has to be directing them somehow," Sherlock said.

Mycroft's phone rang. He answered it. "Two months and a week ago, your man appeared," he relayed. "They even managed to find him unhooded."

"Is there an image we can see?" Riku asked.

"Certainly. Anthea can send a picture," Mycroft answered. "And you are?"

"Riku, Keyblade Master," Riku answered. "My mentor, Mickey Mouse," he added gesturing towards the mouse.

"Mycroft Holmes," the elder Holmes said.

"Pleased to meet you," Mickey said.

Mycroft's phone trilled. "Ah, here we are." He directed the phone to Riku and then Mickey.

Riku searched his gummiphone. "I think this may be a clearer image."

"You know who it is?" John asked.

Riku nodded as he turned his phone towards them. "Luxord."

The man was tall, athletic with shortly cropped blond hair and piercing blue eyes. At least one ear had multiple piercings, and a closely trimmed goatee and mustache would have made him look like a gentleman if it wasn't for the daring smirk. A set of cards flew between his spread hands, showing only the back of the deck.

"A high stakes gambler," Sherlock said. "If anyone could make it a weapon, he could."

"And did," Riku said. "Never get caught by or between his cards. You'll be in deep trouble."

"So, what should be our next move?" Molly asked. "And 'no,' you aren't leaving me behind."

"I'd definitely advise against leaving her behind," Mickey said. "Three people teams, when working as a unified unit, tend toward success."

"Better to keep her safe anyway," Sherlock said.

"Brother," Mycroft warned, "sentiment is a weakness on the losing side."

"Sentiment gave me a weapon from the winner's side," Sherlock returned. "Besides, she's my pathologist and I'd hate to be burdened with anyone like the previous idiots."

John quirked a smile. "Lost without your blogger _and_ your pathologist."

Sherlock jerked round in surprise. He quickly composed himself. "Precisely."

John turned to Molly. "High compliment and welcome to his inner circle of operations," he translated.

Molly smiled before turning serious. "Should we head to Baker Street then? See if we can head them off?"

"How'd you figure that?" Riku asked.

"The Heartless have been going to where Sherlock either visits regularly or where something important has happened to him," Molly answered. "But they haven't gone to Baker Street yet, where he and John live."

Horror slipped over John as Sherlock softly swore. "Mrs. Hudson," the detective said. "We have to make sure she's alright and then make sure nothing happens to her."

John nodded before turning to his sister. "Harry, stay here. Don't go anywhere until I say it's safe."

"You do remember that I'm the elder, don't you?" Harry asked, hands on her hips.

"You are also the target of a Consulting Criminal Mastermind because of me," John said. "So for my peace of mind, just stay put."

Harry stopped mid-eyeroll. "Wait. This wouldn't be the same guy in your April Fools post would he?"

"He is," John said. "And if he is willing to strap me in semtex and then point enough sniper lasers on me and Sherlock so we resembled Christmas trees, he won't hesitate trying to turn you into a Heartless again to hurt me or Sherlock."

"Alright," she said, only shifting a little. "I'll stay here until you give the all clear."

"Thank you," John said.

"Now, off to Baker Street," Sherlock said.

"Do you wish for a lift, brother?" Mycroft asked.

"We'll take a cab," Sherlock shot back, starting to head out.

John rolled his eyes. He sometimes thought he and Harry were bad. At least they tended to be adults and not peevish kids. "Might as well take two," he said. "With the five of us it will be cramped, even if it was legal."

"My car does offer more seats," Mycroft said, looking Sherlock's direction without turning. "And a touch of refreshments." Sherlock slowed and stopped a good meter or so behind his brother. Mycroft continued, "The two of you have eaten little since this all began. It would be a benefit to both of you."

"Gingernuts?" Sherlock asked.

"Picked up fresh on my way over," Mycroft answered.

John raised an eyebrow. What did biscuits have to do with anything?

"Fine," Sherlock snapped. "But only because of the gingernuts," he muttered.

Roughly ten minutes later, John, Sherlock, Molly, Riku, Mickey, and Mycroft were comfortably seated in the back of a government limo. Even before everyone was settled, Sherlock had grabbed four of the aforementioned biscuits, slouching down to munch on them with a sullen pout toward Mycroft.

John rolled his eyes as he led the other keyblade fighters in choosing a selection of food and drinks. Though better than some army rations nearly everything had been chosen more for their nourishment and strength boosting values than for taste.

"So, care to explain the deal with the gingernuts?" John asked.

"My brother's favorite biscuit," Mycroft answered when Sherlock didn't offer more than an annoyed grunt.

"Which the British Government enjoys exploiting," Sherlock groused.

"Only because you make it so easy, brother mine," Mycroft answered with sugar-coated brotherliness.

"And then I wonder why I consider you under ten for all your intellect," John said blandly.

Molly, Riku, and Mickey seemed to find amusement, while the Holmes brothers stared at him as if he'd just said the sun revolved around the earth. John just continued on eating and drinking. Somewhere between that first kidnaping courtesy of Mycroft and the aftermath of surviving a Chinese smuggling ring, he'd just accepted that this was part of his life now. Really it could have been even when he killed that cabbie. Whenever it was, he just started allowing himself to roll with it. Though he had yet to get used to body parts in the fridge.

"How are you enjoying London, Your Majesty?" Mycroft asked, turning to Mickey.

John blinked even as Mickey jolted. He'd been fighting alongside a king?

Mickey recovered, settling into a more formal posture. "Very much, Mr. Holmes," he answered. "At least between the Heartless fights."

"You and your prodigy should visit when the excitement isn't so dire," Mycroft said. "I don't suppose you can speak of your travels to other worlds." How did he even know about that?

"Strongly advised against," Mickey said. "How did you know I was a king?"

"More assumption at first," Mycroft said. "Despite being the smallest in the room, your bearing commanded attention. Yet apparently you weren't born royal, because you did not act pompously or demand all decisions funnel through you. There is a slight indent around your right hand finger. Not a wedding band then, even though you are married. More likely a signet ring then but you left it home to better ensure it didn't fall into the wrong hands. Your gloves, the only item of clothing that is not newly gifted to you are of the finest material, the type reserved for royalty.

"There is also your prodigy. While he is very comfortable around you, there are small things that show you are more than his teacher but also someone of higher social standing."

Riku shifted, like a school boy caught passing notes in class.

"Hm," Mickey said. "You got one thing wrong."

"Oh?"

"While I may still be helping him a little, Riku is officially a Master, making us equals in that regard." The king then gently nudged Riku in the side. "I do however appreciate that he no longer forgets to drop the titles and sticks with my first name."

Riku smiled an echo of relief on his face.

"How did you injure your wrist, Master Riku?" Mycroft asked.

"Fought a friend's Nobody while he was in the Organization," Riku said, lightly rotating his left wrist.

John couldn't make out much since the teen was wearing a pair of fingerless gauntlets. But from what he could see, Riku still had full range of motion, no obvious pain. He thought back over the last few battles, trying to recall what he had seen, what could have tipped off his injury to the Holmes brothers. He avoided using it if he could. It was half-reflexive to jerk it protectively in if a Heartless got too close. The couple times it was struck, Riku had lashed out at the perpetrator with pain. Even as he observed what he could, he listened to what Riku had to say about it.

"He was riding on the power of rage, sorrow, and desperation. I didn't realize until later that he'd cracked it. I took an elixir to take care of it and the rest of my wounds. But I didn't allow it the time needed to heal. I hurt it again several times during my quest to keep my friends safe.

"By the time things slowed down, Master Yen Sid said it was a miracle I could even still use it. It took a combination of surgeries and placement magic to put it back together. I was then forced to take it easy for the next six months, which ended up giving me only another six to build up my strength again before the Master Exam. Mickey and Master Yen Sid doubt that I'll ever regain full strength since I abused the healing spells so bad."

From what he could see, John figured that was about right. He wanted to have a closer look later, but a more serious injury from earlier concerned him. "What about your head injury?"

"He'll be taking a minimum of twelve hour bed rest once we've helped you guys sort things out," Mickey answered, "or between three to six hours from now."

"Dependent on whether or not he repeats the injury in any way," Sherlock said.

"Yep," Mickey said.

John smiled a bit, picking up something else from his memories and the subtle cues even now. "And it's things like that, that have created a father-son relationship between you two."

Mycroft and Sherlock stared at him as though he'd grown a second head, while Molly, Riku, and Mickey chuckled.

"I _have_ picked up some deduction skills," John said in his defense. "A little hard not to living with a genius day in and day out."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hope you enjoyed the banter between the crazy Holmes brothers. I hope I captured the bite and hidden brotherliness.

Riku's injury isn't canon to my knowledge, but I ran into this theory early in my _Kingdom Hearts_ forays and so now it's become a partial headcanon. It also ended up being an awesome opportunity to show John's own deductive powers as a doctor. (Even though my own personal knowledge is limited.) I hate it when John is portrayed as some bumbling idiot, no matter what time period. He managed to become a doctor which means several years of training, more if he decided to specialize in one field or another. And I personally think that living with Sherlock 24/7 would cause at least some of those observational skills to rub off.

I'm going to be gone this coming week, so I can't promise when I can respond to your reviews. I might be able to borrow a computer with internet connection, or I may have to wait until the next time I post. But please, don't hesitate to share your theories of coming events or simply your reactions. The location of the world's heart is still open for speculation. :-)

Until next time.


	6. Into the Snake's Den

Everything seemed quiet when they pulled up to 221B. Molly and the visiting keyblade Masters thanked Mycroft for the ride as John and Sherlock inspected their building. John couldn't see anything out of place, but he also had a long way to go before he had Sherlock's observational skills. He also didn't smell any Darkness. "Sherlock?" he asked as the others joined them.

"Seems undisturbed," the detective said. He stepped closer to examine the door. "No signs of forced entry." He turned to John. "Darkness sensors?"

"Nothing," John said.

"And I find that worrying," Riku said. "No Darkness but no Light either."

"A barrier of some kind," Sherlock said.

"Right," Mickey said decisively. "To make sure we don't get separated, catch hold of each other."

Riku nodded, accepting Mickey's hand before grasping Molly's shoulder. Molly grabbed the back of John's jacket as John snagged Sherlock's coat back.

"Let's go," John said. Military training made him uneasy with this arrangement. Linked together like a chain restricted movement and the ability to fully observe their surroundings. But Mickey and Riku had more experience battling the Darkness, meaning that they possibly knew of another danger that he didn't know of.

Sherlock opened the door, leading them inside. He immediately angled away from the stairs to Mrs. Hudson's flat in 221A. He opened the door, his shoulders relaxing just a touch. "Mrs. Hudson!"

"Oh, Sherlock!" she cried.

John breathed out in relief as he was half-dragged inside by Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson sat in a chair, shaken but unharmed.

Sherlock gently pulled her up and into his arms as their landlady softly cried and clutched him. "What happened? Are you alright?" he asked.

"A, a man came in, leading a flood of those horrid creatures that have been in the news," she answered. "He told me to stay in my flat if I wanted to stay safe. They have shown what those monsters do to people. And – and something about his eyes . . . like, like he was crazed."

"Mrs. Hudson," Riku said, stepping forward, "were his eyes a shade of gold? Even just a hint?"

Mrs. Hudson thought, stepping back from Sherlock a bit and taking steadying breaths. "I-I think there might have been, which is odd because his eyes were, were quite dark in color."

"What does that mean exactly?" John asked.

"He is being consumed by Darkness," Riku said.

"Also an indication of Xehanort trying to establish control," Mickey added.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Hudson said. "You boys _will_ explain everything, won't you?"

"Of course we will, Mrs. Hudson," John promised. He turned to Riku and Mickey. "Will one of you stay with her, just to make sure she stays safe?"

"Sure," Mickey said. "Riku, think you'll be okay heading up there?"

Riku smiled as he nodded. "Yeah. Just holler if you need help down here."

"Will do," Mickey promised.

As they headed out and up the stairs to 221B, John said, "I honestly wouldn't have minded a chance to toss Moriarty out the window, just saying."

"Toss him out a window?" Riku asked.

"That's what happened to the American bloke that attacked and hurt Mrs. Hudson," John answered.

"I think I heard about that," Molly said. "It sounded as though he was tossed out more than once."

"Indeed, I lost count," Sherlock said off-handedly.

"At least four times I believe," John said.

"Skip that step, it creaks," Sherlock said.

John scowled as he awkwardly skipped the indicated stair. He really didn't like this chain arrangement. He reached back to help Molly steady herself as she stretched a bit. Riku cleared it without a problem.

Nothing more was said as they continued upward. At the door they all paused. John made eye contact with Sherlock when his friend turned.

"One," Sherlock mouthed with a nod.

"Two," John mouthed.

"Three." Sherlock opened the door.

John barely stopped himself from reacting to the sheer stench and magnitude of Darkness that swept over him as Sherlock led their little chain in. He forcibly steeled himself as he took in the sheer number of Heartless in their flat. Every surface as covered with Heartless of every size and strength. Some even flew about the room. And in the center of it all, perched on the end of their desk, Jim Moriarty.

"I wondered when you'd show," he said with a twisted smile. "Oh, and you brought a couple friends along."

"One can never go wrong with too many friends in a situation like this," Sherlock answered. "At least that's my understanding."

"Hm, never expected Molly Hooper," he said, seeming to ignore Sherlock's statement.

"I'm allowed to help out friends," Molly said a touch acidly.

"Yes, thank you so much for introducing us," Moriarty said almost too sweetly before turning to Riku. "Who's grandpa junior?"

"Excuse me if I don't feel the need to tell you," Riku answered.

Moriarty hummed. "Have you figured out where it is yet? The Heart of our world? I personally would rather not lock it against the Darkness, but having one or two on hand to defend it would be perfect."

"And what would stop us from locking it?" John asked.

"Oh, I'd find a way, an incentive," Moriarty answered. "You have exposed your weaknesses, Sherlock. I'm almost disappointed in you. Though, I am almost surprised John is even still with you." He pulled a shocked face. "He couldn't have been the one to cut down his own sister, could he?"

"Monster!" John cried. "I suspected it was you!" He released some of his anger, but locked away the relief that his sister was safe. Let Moriarty believe that his twisted plan had worked.

"Calm, John," Sherlock said coolly. "Now is not the time."

"I will _not_ calm down!" John returned, half-screaming. "It's because of this beast that Harry–" He forced himself to stop, choking on only half-feigned emotions. If Riku hadn't revealed what had happened to his friend as a Heartless . . . If John hadn't become a Christian and accepted God's Light . . . Moriarty's plot may very well have succeeded.

"Poor baby brother," Moriarty crooned. "Forced to slay a sister's Heartless. I wonder if she forced you to choose between sparing her or saving Sherlock. Oh! The heartbreak!"

"Shut up!" John ordered.

Molly tightened her hold on his jacket, even catching his shoulder, ensuring that he didn't leap forward.

"You really can't tell that the Darkness is consuming you," Riku said quietly. Was that empathy in his voice?

"Hm, you have experienced it then," Moriarty said, focusing on Riku. "You know the sweet intoxication. The allure of power."

"Tch. It's a stench to me now. An abomination," Riku said. "But alongside my Light and my friends, I have defeated it and bend the remnants to my will. But it took a long journey, a journey I'm still on, in order to say that."

"So, you still use the Darkness."

"Not if I can help it. I don't wish to lose myself to it again."

"Hm, then you are of no importance." Moriarty threw a hand out, sending a strong wind over them.

John grabbed more fully onto Sherlock as Molly and Sherlock grabbed him. Riku cried out and John barely had time to turn and see the boy fly and topple down the stairs. "Riku!" A crystalline barrier appeared, barring the way.

"I'm okay!" Riku shouted. "Get rid of them!"

John summoned his keyblade back seconds before the Heartless attacked. For the next few minutes, John had no idea where Moriarty was. He could only focus on killing the Heartless before they did serious damage. Molly would send healing spells toward him or Sherlock after a particularly bad beating. Every so often, Sherlock would shout, "Truce!" Then the three of them would perform the power up that they had done at NSY. It was still somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes before the last Heartless was wiped out.

John fell to his knee, breathing hard. While his chair looked inviting, he didn't trust himself to get out of it anytime soon.

An odd slashing crash sliced through the air before running footsteps rushed in. "Everyone alright?" Riku asked.

"A bit winded, but fine," Molly answered.

"But where's Moriarty?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know," Riku said, "but I need to tell you–"

A whooshing sound and a wave of Darkness halted his words.

John stood, turning to see the new threat.

Out of a cloud of Darkness came Moriarty and –

"Luxord, I presume," Sherlock said.

"Indeed," the gambler said, tossing a couple dice. "Wanted to make sure of a front row seat for Jim. And I believe we discovered what we need to know."

"And what would that be?" Sherlock asked.

"Not just yet," Moriarty said. "Need to hide the stupid ones away for a while."

Luxord flared a deck of cards before tossing them beyond Sherlock . . . and at the rest of them.

The cards grew until they were taller than John before planting themselves around Riku, Molly, and him. "What's going on?" John asked. Then the cards were spinning round them.

"No!" Riku shouted. He ran at the spinning wall only to be thrown back. And then they were in a white room. A small, white room.

"Please say the lights don't go out," Molly said, a slight tremble in her voice.

"They don't," Riku said, standing again. "But we're stuck in here for now."

"You mean, Sherlock is on his own out there?" John asked.

"He's a capable fighter," Riku said.

"He's also with a psychopath who promised to burn the heart out of him!" John kicked the wall, earning a throbbing foot in return.

"Best we can do is wait," Riku said, plopping down as he propped his knees up. "And I hate waiting," he added with a groan.

Molly sat down, half-tucking her legs under her. "What were you about to tell Sherlock? If it's safe to ask."

John settled into a battle ready crouch, checking his gun out of habit. It was still fully loaded with all the spells.

"The world's heart is in that room," Riku said.

John's head jerked up. "What?"

"Center of the wall with the spray-painted smiley face," Riku said. "It's imperative that we get Luxord and Moriarty away so that it can be sealed. It's a miracle the Heartless didn't swarm it and banish the world to Darkness before we got there."

The walls started morphing. John shot to his feet, summoning his keyblade.

Riku was just a second behind him as Molly scrambled to her feet. By the time the giant cards were slowing, they were all battle ready.

But nothing could have prepared John for what he saw through the cards. His heart stopped as it simultaneously choked him. He half-staggered.

Sherlock stood, his keyblade poised over his own heart, ready to plunge it in. Then with a move that _shouldn't_ have been that quick, Sherlock drove the keyblade through his chest.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, just as Molly screamed,"No!"

But it was too late. Sherlock's arms fell limp as his keyblade dissolved. A slight wind flapped his coat before the detective glowed and exploded into golden sparks that slowly dispersed.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Yes, I am that evil. *grins madly* But before you start throwing things my way and/or flaming, please recall that this _is_ Sherlock we are considering here and _Kingdom Hearts_ where it could be debated what actually happened. :-D Besides, there has to be a reason Sherlock would willingly do that, right? Theories anyone?

I'll confess, I find it difficult to figure out the reasoning behind the placement of world hearts in the games. But I think more often than not, the location holds a special significance to the characters we associate with that world. If that is not the case, you can correct me, but that is why I chose for this world's heart to be in 221B.

For those of you who have seen _Sherlock_, isn't Sherlock's defense of Mrs. Hudson so awesome in ASiB? Part of why I referenced it here. One of the best scenes in the series I think.

And while not correct, thank you, GoodShipSherlollipop, for taking a guess as to the heart's location. And it was a bit of her influence that caused me to hint that Molly has a bit of claustrophobia. If you want to find out why, go check out her _Journey_ story. It is super long, but I enjoyed every minute of it.

So, theories of what will come next anyone? Leave a comment down below.


	7. A Different Reichenbach

Sherlock stared as the cards straightened, divided themselves, and slid away . . . revealing empty space. "John! Molly!" Their names instinctively escaped his lips.

"Now, now," Luxord said patronizingly. "They aren't harmed. Just hidden away so we can talk privately."

"What do you want?" Sherlock ground out. He fought to regain his emotionless exterior.

"Oh," Moriarty answered, starting to circle him. "I just found an amazing opportunity to do what I promised literally. I can literally tear your heart out." He laughed. "But where's the fun in that? I had another plan in the works, one that would tear you down in the most glorious fashion ever." He leaned over Sherlock's shoulder from behind, breath brushing his ear. "Leading you to suicide."

Sherlock's skin crawled before Moriarty stepped back and circled again to the front in his vulture-like prowl.

"But this," Moriarty continued, "this is much simpler, and I can guarantee that we end up on the same side."

"How do you intend to do that?"

"By turning you into a Heartless."

"Or more accurately, turning yourself into one," Luxord said, turning a tablet screen to him (_the very tablet he and John had left at the station, he'd have to ask Riku how Luxord could have retrieved it_).

A scene from one of the games, the first based on the costume, played out. A brunet plunged a sharp, black keyblade into his chest. After a brief light show, the boy completely disappeared before the eyes of a duck, dog, and human girl.

Sherlock dove into his Mind Palace.

_Riku's words from earlier whirled around."One of my best friends became a Heartless voluntarily to save a mutual friend."_

_"Fought a friend's Nobody while he was in the Organization."_

_The boy from the video split as Sherlock circled round, into a Heartless similar to Harry's form and an Organization's coat. "So this boy turned into a Heartless and Nobody. The Heartless was harmless and restored at a later time by a Princess of Heart." The boy returned. Leaving Sherlock to turn and walk about his two friends. "Evidence earlier shows John and Molly have enough Light to do the same."_

_The Organization's coat came back along with Riku. "The Nobody fought Riku because they had been on opposing sides, but that might not have been the case if the Nobody had retained some memory of his Other's life. He had also been in the throes of negative emotions, most likely after losing a loved one."_

_He returned to the image of Baker Street, eyeing the Organization's agent to his own world. "Luxord must be getting some cut. Moriarty would get my Heartless while he would get my Nobody. So he must know where to immediately find it."_

_He looked where his awakening senses directed him: up. "The hearts are still trapped, out of sight above us." Crystal hearts floated like so many trapped balloons in a net. "They would have dispersed by now otherwise. But Moriarty and Luxord have managed to create a barrier so strong they can't escape. Which means my Nobody and Heartless will most likely remain within 221."_

_There'd be a catch of course. While convinced now that he could still be a help, he needed to know why he should turn on himself._

He snapped out of his Mind Palace, hardly a half-minute since the clip ended. "And why should I do that?"

"Because if you don't, it'll happen to everyone you care for," Moriarty answered.

His heart skipped a beat. "John?"

"Everyone."

"Mrs. Hudson? Lestrade?"

"Even your aloof brother."

"And these are professional Heartless and Nobodies," Luxord said. "It doesn't matter if we give the order or not, it will happen."

"All we can do is make sure it _doesn't_ happen," Moriarty said. "So, what is your choice?"

"You give your word that they'll all have a fighting chance to survive if I do this?"

"From one genius to another."

Sherlock summoned his keyblade. Sent a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that things would happen as he predicted. Then, as the cards reappeared and spun round again, he positioned the keyblade above his heart. He plunged it in, but not quick enough.

"No!" "Sherlock!"

They had seen it. At least they'd have a warning– He was separating. His heart and emotions tearing away from his mind and husk. It wasn't quite as painful as he imagined.

* * *

A Detective Heartless morphed into being in dreary 221C. It twitched as it floated. Two levels above it two beings shown brilliantly. "John. Molly." It started its slow, cautious journey. It needed their help to be restored.

* * *

A tall man toppled atop John's bed. He cursed a bit for his wobbly legs. He pushed himself up and looked at a mirror. Well, he hadn't expected this look. But better than twins once his Heartless was restored. And at least he didn't look like a tramp fresh off the streets. Now to return to his allies.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Super short, I know, but I had to let you know what led to Sherlock's "demise" last chapter.

I tried to capture the sense of entering Sherlock's Mind Palace like we see in the series. If I haven't got it right, I may come back at a later date and try again.

I figured that once Moriarty learned how to rip out a person's heart via keyblade _and_ a way to make Sherlock join him, he wouldn't pass on that opportunity. No, Sherlock's reputation would still be intact, unless he figured out how to twist the tale of how Sherlock became a Heartless, but details.

Now, considering Sherlock's intellect and general fortitude, I figured that his Nobody would appear fully human like those of Organization XIII. But, since I didn't want to deal with two Sherlock's, I snagged another role from Benedict Cumberbatch's resume. Any guesses as to who I decided to borrow?

Next chapter we will be returning to John. Hope you enjoyed, despite it being short.


	8. The Criminal

John breathed hard. A rage burned deep inside him. A warrior's scream broke out as he leaped forward and slashed at Luxord, firing a spell at Moriarty. He landed several critical blows before Luxord took the coward's way out and disappeared into Darkness.

Moriarty was batting away the remnants of a blizzard spell. But he had to abandon that to avoid Molly's keyblade aimed below his chin.

"What did you do?" she demanded, her voice rough and wet from tears.

"All I did was give him a choice," Moriarty answered with a twisted smile. "Kill himself or not."

"That's not the full story."

John whirled toward Sherlock's voice then froze. It wasn't Sherlock though he was very similar. He was almost dressed like a jedi with his boots and knee-length blue tunics. His dark hair was combed back and a mustache-goatee combination decorated his otherwise familiar face.

"You made him choose between his friends or himself. Of course he'd save his friends," the stranger continued. Silence stretched for a moment. "Stephen Strange, hi," he added with a hand up.

John burst out with a chuckle. A perfect echo of Moriarty at The Pool.

Stephen met John's eyes with a smile. "Thought you might appreciate that."

"How–?" Molly started.

"Sherlock's Nobody, no need for introductions," Stephen said. "His memories provide everything I need to know, including people's identities and their affiliation. And I think it's time to bring down the Mastermind." He flung his hand to the side but nothing happened. He frowned at the empty air, disappointed. "Should have made sure of my powers before coming down."

"We'll cover you while you figure it out," John said. He turned to Riku who was only staring at Moriarty as though trying to figure something out.

"What?" Moriarty snapped. "What are you looking at?"

"You are teetering on the edge," Riku said. "Just before your heart tips forward to see only blackness, but you don't even know it."

"Maybe I should have killed you instead of just throwing you back."

Molly paled, forcing John to remind himself that Molly only really knew Moriarty as Jim from IT, the gay boyfriend who tried to hit on Sherlock. She didn't know about the bombs, about the old, blind woman, the child. She never heard his callous reply, "That's what people DO!" She didn't know Moriarty would think nothing of murdering a teen.

Heartless popped into existence around them. Not as numerous as when they first arrived but certainly a bit stronger in general.

John leaped back to where Riku stood while Stephen slipped behind them and Molly rushed over to provide cover from the other side. For the next few minutes, the former army captain was a aware of little else than fighting the Heartless back and the frustrated growls as Stephen tried to figure out his powers, after while interspersed with something crackling.

Finally, a sparking, golden whip snaked out and half-destroyed one of the Heartless. "Magic. Pure, complicated magic," Stephen said. "So much for logic."

"We're not going to complain," John said. "Especially if that whip of yours can take out a few Heartless at once."

"Still figuring it out, give me time," Stephen said. "At least I can defend myself now."

So they fell into a rhythm. Moriarty summoned more and more Heartless while John and his friends killed them off as best they could. But, it stung, horribly, that Sherlock was no longer there with his sweeping coat and a call of "Truce" or "Vatican Cameos." But he could still get Moriarty, he can make him pay.

Something checked him, not enough to keep him from fighting the Heartless, but to make him think. Williams's voice gently chided, "Revenge isn't for Christians, Captain. 'Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.' He'll receive God's judgement, if not in this life, than the life to come. Not to say don't continue to fight, but don't retaliate with hate and anger. While he still remains, remember, Jesus died for him too."

John stepped back, allowing himself a moment to collect himself while Stephen and Riku stepped up where he had been. _Alright, Father,_ he silently prayed. _I'll try. So long as he remains human, at least in appearance, I won't strike him down._ A nudge and raised eyebrow from Williams. _And if I were to strike out in anger and hatred, interrupt me and let someone else make that strike._

Just as he stepped back into the fight again, he saw a Detective Heartless sneaking up behind Molly. "Molly! Behind you!"

She whipped around, swinging her keyblade, but the Heartless jerked down and . . . cowered?

"It's Sherlock's Heartless," Stephen said.

"He's right," Riku added, glancing back. "And I'd dare to say he's the most cognitive Heartless I've ever seen."

"Should it really be that surprising?" John asked.

A dog-like Heartless dove for Sherlock. Molly struck it back with a fury. "I'll protect you this time," she said.

"I suspect he'd like more than just protection," Stephen said.

"Well, give me a chance to get a breathing moment and I'll see what I can do," Molly said.

"We'll help," Riku said.

It was just a moment or two before they could give Molly a breather. But she finally had a pocket of time.

She caught Sherlock's Heartless in her arms and hugged him, a brilliant, warm, golden radiance bursting from them.

Stephen staggered, almost losing his whip. He grasped his chest, turning to stare in awed amazement at Molly.

Thankfully the Light had thrown all the Heartless away and senseless for a bit, so John also turned. Sherlock stood, stock still in Molly's embrace, his face in the fairly blank "computing" face, reserved for those rare moments Sherlock had trouble comprehending something immediately.

"Sherlock dot exe has stopped working," Riku said in a low voice.

Sherlock shook himself, blinking, before he looked down at Molly. "You truly love me that much?"

Molly blushed red. "Yes," she said quietly.

Sherlock drew in a deep breath and let it out with a long whoosh. "I'll have to sort through this later. Right now, we have to get rid of this threat and find the heart to seal it."

"The heart has been found," John said, taking the opportunity to pull Sherlock into a tight hug of his own. "Riku knows where."

"_NO!_" Moriarty screamed. "You aren't supposed to be back! You can't be restored back!"

"On the contrary," Sherlock said. "I am the second restoration today. You failed to complete your research. Oopsie."

"_I'll destroy you!_" Moriarty screeched.. He started forward only to be met with Stephen's whip across his face. But instead of a red burn or a bleeding slice, his face split to reveal black and purple muscle releasing wisps of Darkness.

Molly gave a small cry. "Oh, Lord have mercy on him," she whispered.

"John, rotate two chambers left," Stephen ordered. "Light will expose the monster underneath."

"Easier on the conscience than attacking a seemingly unarmed man," Sherlock agreed.

John fired at the man who had stumbled back from the whip's sting.

With a flash of Light, the man that was Moriarty melted away with a scream, leaving only a monster behind. Against logic, the Minotaur-like beast was larger than the human shell that had confined it. It was all black muscle and sinews, highlighted by reddish-purples.

"And there is the Boss," Riku said.

"So we skipped the Mini Boss," Sherlock said.

"I think technically it would have been Luxord," Riku said. "But John almost demolished him since he caught Luxord off guard."

"And I doubt the fellow ever met a military man in a fight before," Sherlock said. "He's used to just picking on teenagers and those of his ilk."

"Well, then," Molly said, "let's get rid of this thing and seal our world."

"Excellent plan," John said.

The giant Heartless growled, "Don't underestimate the Criminal!"

A moment later, John realized he'd made a slight miscalculation: the Criminal was right. While they were only fighting one Master Heartless, the Criminal could summon smaller Heartless, and just a single swipe of his hand could almost kill you.

Stephen and Sherlock ordered Molly to the sidelines of the battle where she could safely cast her spells and heal those who were needing it.

In addition to fighting, Riku took to running and tumbling about like a gymnast, picking various items the lesser Heartless had dropped. He passed most spells and elixirs to Molly and Stephen, occasionally he'd duck behind John, and stuff more spells into his gun that made the spells he shot out several times stronger. The potions and stamina-strength enhancers, Riku passed to the three main fighters. John, Stephen, and Sherlock focused on beating the Criminal to a pulp.

During the rare moments the Heartless would stumble back to recover, Sherlock would shout, "Truce!" John and Molly would leap beside him so they could create the translucent keyblade. They focused most of its power on the Criminal before using the dispersing power to finish off the remaining lesser Heartless. Afterwards, Molly would hop back as the other four raced in for some solid blows before the Criminal pulled itself back together and attacked.

It was at least a half-hour, maybe even forty-five minutes before John could sense that the Criminal was on its last leg. The monster roared, it's left hand shooting out and grabbing Sherlock's face and neck in its fist.

"No!" John shouted, faintly hearing Molly scream the same. As one they dashed forward, even as Stephen cried out in pain. John plunged his keyblade into the Heartless's chest, just as Molly did the same.

The Criminal swayed before particles started drifting up on wisps of Darkness.

John turned to see Stephen drop from a fist around his chest as Sherlock dropped to his knees, gasping for breath as the hand dissipated into mists. John released his keyblade to rush over to his best friend. He barely heard the clatter of his and Molly's keyblades as they fell from the body that was no longer there.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Slowly starting to wrap things up. About four more chapters. :-) Hope you enjoyed what I did with Sherlock's Nobody and Heartless.

As satisfying as it might have been to completely destroy Luxord, he is still needed on a couple worlds, namely the Caribbean with Sora and Captain Sparrow.

The reason Stephen stumbled when Molly restored Sherlock is because he is still strongly linked to Sherlock. He can feel/sense what Sherlock experiences. Admittedly, this is mostly headcanon since we never see a Nobody and Heartless of the same person interact with each other in the games. Now, there are two things that could happen to Sherlock and Steven. 1: Sherlock and his Nobody will rejoin and be whole once again. 2: Sherlock and Stephen remain separate and Stephen becomes his own person, gradually gaining his own heart.

Shoutout to GoodShipSherlollipop who not only correctly guessed the borrowed identity of Sherlock's Nobody but also who would restore our favorite detective. Sometimes it pays to be such a faithful Sherlolly shipper. ;-)

So things will start being wrapped up next chapter. So any theories as to the fate of Sherlock's Nobody? Theories of how everything will be taken care of in general? Would love to hear your thoughts.


	9. Sealing the Heart

John hurriedly knelt before Sherlock as his friend gasped for air. "Are you alright?" John demanded, loosening that stupid scarf.

Sherlock nodded as he slowly regained control of his breathing.

"Oh, thank God," Molly said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Sherlock hesitantly reached up and gave her arm a squeeze. "It-it's alright. I'm fine," he said hoarsely. "Now, where's the heart?"

John smirked. "You've been shooting at it."

"What?" Sherlock looked woefully confused.

John struggled to keep his face under control, his laughter, but the relief of Sherlock being okay, their victory, and the entire day was catching up. "It's a good thing regular bullets have no effect on our world's heart or we'd be dead a dozen times over."

Molly started laughing. "And why would he be shooting at the wall?"

"'Bored!'" John answered in what he believed to be a good imitation. "I step out for five minutes and I come home to a spray painted smiley face and Sherlock shooting at it."

"And I take it this is normal?" Riku asked, somewhat bemused.

John sat back on his heels to look up at the teen. "Sherlock needs puzzles and cases to occupy his mind or else it goes into overdrive. Which overall makes him more insensitive than usual and anywhere on the danger scale."

Riku chuckled a bit. "Then I guess if my friends and I can't figure something out, we'll ask you guys."

"Hm, mysteries from other worlds," Sherlock mused, his voice slowly returning to normal. "So long as they aren't tedious, I may welcome them." He gently slipped out of Molly's arms in order to stand, John and Molly standing with him. "So," Sherlock asked, "how does one seal a world's heart?"

"Everyone okay?" Mickey asked running in.

"Thankfully, yes," Stephen answered, straightening his tunics. "Stephen Strange. Sherlock's Nobody."

"Nice to meet ya," Mickey said.

"Mickey," Riku said, "we have found the heart, but it feels different."

Mickey loped over to the couch and hopped onto the back, pressing a hand against the wall. A large keyhole pulsed into existence. "Hm, it's rare for this kind of keyhole. It requires at least two keyblades to lock it, possibly a third. I've only ever seen something like this in Hyrule."

"Why more than one keyblade?" Riku asked.

"Well, closet I can figure," Mickey answered, turning around, "it's Sherlock's world. And since he lives with the heart, it echoes his closest connections. A keyblade for him and his one or two closest friends."

"So it needs John's, Molly's, and my keyblades to seal it," Sherlock said.

"Uh-huh," Mickey said. "Much like the power-up you three do."

"Anything special, magic words, or a spell?" John asked.

Mickey shook his head. "Just feel a desire to protect your world, to seal it away from the Darkness. There will still be Heartless around, but no new ones will show up and they'll be easier to defeat."

"Right," Sherlock said. "Ready?"

"Ready," Molly said.

John nodded. As one they summoned their keyblades. John allowed his desire to protect and preserve flow over him. The tip of Healing Warrior glowed with a drop of light, straining toward the keyhole like a magnet. Gripping with both hands, he directed it to the keyhole, Molly and Sherlock just a second or so behind him. Then three beams of Light shot out and struck the keyhole. A kaleidoscope of colors as large and vivid as a rose window glowed and spun round as a click resounded around them.

"And it is done," Stephen said.

"And time for everyone to have a lay down," John said. "I'm sure we've abused the healing potions and spells today. So, I'll be locating some beds while the rest take care of sleeping locations."

Before the hour was out, everyone had settled in. Molly napped on the sofa. Riku nestled down in some blankets, insistent that the floor was fine. Sherlock rested in his own room, Stephen with him on John's old army bed. Mickey insisted on helping Mrs. Hudson straighten things up, prepare food, and field any calls that came in. John headed up to his own room.

On the way he pulled out his mobile and phoned Greg.

"John, you okay?"

"Yeah, we neutralized the problem and the world is safely sealed from the Darkness."

"Oh, thank God."

"Yes," John said, leaning against the wall for a moment. "Could you make sure Harry gets home for me?"

"Sure," Greg said. "Do you want to talk to her?"

"That would be great."

"You guys need anything?"

"Undisturbed rest, part of the deal after excessive use of healing magic to my understanding. The last Heartless was especially brutal, so quite a few healings needed. I did give Mickey your number. He's supposed to check in so that you can reach him should the remaining Heartless prove problematic. Oh, and what day is it?"

"It's a Thursday," Greg answered.

"Thanks," John said. "And don't expect us anywhere for about twenty-four hours."

"Right. Here's Harry."

"John, you okay?" Harry asked.

"Just tired, Harry. The worst of the Heartless threat is over so I asked Greg to make sure you get home safe."

"You sure, John? You're really okay?"

John sighed. "I've spent the better part of the past four days without sleep, and the past few hours excessively using magic to heal myself and keep moving. I am perfectly alright, I just need at least twenty-four hours to naturally heal and to rest. So, if you can't reach me for a while, don't panic. I'm probably just in a dead sleep."

"Okay, if I don't hear from you before, I'll ring you up this time tomorrow."

"Got it." John paused. When was the last time? "Love ya, Harry."

There was silence before: "Love ya, Squirt."

John chuckled. "Please say that you didn't just call me that in front of the entire force."

"Don't worry, they all stepped away to give us some privacy. But if they did manage to catch it, I'll threaten to blacken their eyes if they dare tease you."

"Later, Harry."

"Later."

John hung up and pulled himself the rest of the way up to his room. He vaguely noticed how his usually military smooth blankets were rumpled. Probably meant Sherlock's Nobody had dropped here first. He kicked his shoes off and collapsed atop his covers.

So, Thursday. Left a couple days before Sunday to figure out a church to attend, right? He smiled. They had made it. "Thanks, Father." Just before he fell completely under, he felt a blanket pulled over him.

* * *

**Author's Note**: At least only Light, Darkness, and a keyblade's magic can pierce a world's heart. The way to lock a world's heart/keyhole is something else that _Kingdom Hearts_ never really explains. Almost like it's something that's supposed to be instinctual, but sometimes I like to figure out how magic is supposed to work in various stories. Admittedly, I broke canon by making the heart need more than one keyblade to lock it, and I threw in a reference to Legend of Zelda because it is connected to a headcanon that I have concerning Mickey and Riku. But that's unimportant here. If you want a hint, check out my other KH story _Baby Girl_. I also felt that it would be nice to see our trio of friends all playing a part in sealing their world against any further Darkness. (And yes, I know I took the locking sequence from _Dream Drop Distance_. I thought it was pretty and the sequence that stuck out most in my memories. Sh!) :-)

I hope you enjoyed the brief interchange between John and Harry. Do not ask me about "Squirt." They are both not telling me anything beyond "it's a sibling thing." More likely than not, just because John is the younger of the two.

Any theories for the last three chapters? I _will_ be introducing a new character in the next chapter that a good friend is allowing me to borrow. :-) Please, tell me your thoughts and theories? Until next time.


	10. A New Sunday Morning

John straightened his tie as he came down the stairs. "How's everyone coming along?" he called.

"Riku and I are ready," Mickey called.

"I don't understand why I can't wear my own clothes," Stephen protested.

"You are not going to work, we're going to church, that's why," John answered. "Sherlock has loaned you a suit, wear it."

Mickey chuckled as John finally entered the sitting room. "Feel like a single parent?"

"It can feel like it at times," John said. "Thankfully the worst episodes are between cases."

It was Sunday morning. Molly had invited them all to her church. After nearly sleeping the clock round, John had insisted on taking Riku in for a couple x-rays for his peace of mind. He also made sure a therapist friend of his got a chance to examine Riku's wrist and provide some exercises and equipment to help the teen's wrist to strengthen. Seeing that the x-rays revealed a few fractures remaining in Riku's skull, John insisted that Riku and Mickey stay at least a couple days more.

As a result, nearly all the Heartless had been eradicated. And they better understood how a Nobody could develop into their own person separate from their original. So, for the record, the Holmeses had discovered Sherlock's long lost twin brother.

There was also another development, something that apparently gave Stephen a jumpstart to developing his own heart. It would seem that most of the Light Molly had used to restore Sherlock had been infused with adoring, unconditional love.

"I never noticed that cross necklace before," Riku said.

John looked down at Williams's empty cross, resting atop his tie. "An army mate used to wear it. I'd dare say that it's because of him that I became a Christian."

"I thought that I sensed some sentimental value to it," Mickey said. "Will we get to meet him at Molly's church?"

The former captain shook his head. "His King called him home shortly before I was invalided home."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mickey said.

John brushed it aside. "You couldn't have known, and now I know that I'll meet up with him again someday." He then looked to Sherlock, standing before the fireplace and fussing. He smiled as he moved to stand beside his friend.

"Do I look alright?" Sherlock asked.

John bit back a laugh. "You could probably come in an addict's disguise with a five o'clock shadow and she'd think you look perfect."

"Not going to test that theory just yet," Sherlock said, finger-combing his hair back.

"Um, don't do that, mate," John said. "If there's one thing I've picked up on, it's that she loves those curls of yours."

"So fluffier is better," Sherlock said.

"Just don't make it obvious," John said. "Stephen, if you don't hurry, we're going to be late!"

"I don't like suits!" Stephen called back.

"I'm not asking you to put on a tie, just some regular trousers and shirt," John returned. "What do you expect to wear when we finally peel those clothes off to wash them?"

"You're not my mum," Stephen snapped.

"No," Sherlock said, "Mummy would have stripped you naked, swatted your behind, and poured you into that suit by now. Be grateful. Though I may consider thrashing you myself."

Stephen came from the bedroom to glare at his "brother." "Meanie," he taunted.

"Childish," Sherlock returned, ruffling his hair. "John?"

"Better. Stephen, don't make me use my military training and make you wish it was your mummy."

Stephen stilled. "Bad days?"

"I could make it that way, yeah."

The new mage scuttled.

"'Bad days'?" Riku asked.

"I made the mistake a few months ago to have John punch me," Sherlock said.

"You provoked me and wanted to look beat up," John said. "I supplied."

The doorbell rang.

"That'd be Molly." John caught Sherlock's hand. "You want fluffy, not bed head."

"Ah, right."

John shook his head as he headed to the door. Apparently for the past couple days Sherlock's emotions were a bit more free, having been separated for a time from his clinical mind. Thus giving Sherlock and his friends time to figure out that he returned at least some of Molly's feelings.

"Hello," Molly greeted. "How is everyone?"

"We're good," Riku said.

"Stephen has been giving us trouble," John said, "but I think he should be about ready now."

"Hi, Molly," Sherlock greeted.

"Hi, Sherlock," Molly returned, blushing and smiling hugely.

John smiled, shaking his head. "Should I be offering baby names, or wait?" he asked.

"Depends if you'll reveal what 'H' stands for or not," Sherlock said, trying to cover his own slight blush.

"Raise the attraction in the room and I might," John returned. Definitely something he had noticed in the calm: he could feel emotions in the air. He could feel the beautiful gold of love blossoming between his friends. He felt the dappled amusement from Mickey and Riku as they observed the goings on. He sensed the prickle of Stephen's irritation. He had no idea if it was a keyblade wielder thing and it was now part of who he was, or if it will eventually fade. He could only wait to see.

"Okay, I'm dressed in a suit," Stephen said, coming into the sitting room. "Happy?"

John gave him a quick once over. "Very. Now let's go." He blew out a long breath. "If I ever wish to be a dad, someone slap me."

Molly lightly chuckled. "At that point, you _should_ have a wife to help."

"Yes," Sherlock said, pulling on his Belstaff. "Besides with all the practice we give you, you'll be a pro."

John rolled his eyes as he pulled on his jacket. Within the hour they arrived at Molly's church.

Molly led them to her pew and the current Baker Street crew proceeded to fill a good portion of it. As they were settling down, a brunette about Molly's age slipped up beside the pathologist.

"School teacher," Sherlock deduced under his breath. "Quite possibly younger children, preschool to Second Year at the oldest."

John peeked around his friends to better see the beauty. Oh, she might not win a contest against Anthea or Irene Adler, but there was a quiet beauty about her. And a beauty that shown through her that magnified her Light. A bit of bashful attraction also seemed to be present as she and Molly quietly chatted and laughed.

"Everyone," Molly said, "this is my friend, Kayla. Kayla, this is Riku, Stephen, Mickey, John, and Sherlock." She locked eyes with John. "She's a fan of your blog."

"Oh, anything you enjoy specifically?" John asked.

Kayla blushed a little. "I enjoy reading about you and your adventures, your way with words," she said. Her blush intensified. "I have to get to my Sunday School class for now."

"You can join us for the service after," Molly invited.

"Thank you, I just might," Kayla said, peeking at John before she left.

"Hm, for once a fan for John Watson the blogger," Sherlock said, a corner of his mouth tilting upward.

"Oh, shut up," John said, elbowing him. Was his face warming? It should not be doing that.

The rest of the service times passed without incident. John enjoyed the service even if he felt out of his comfort zone of not knowing what to expect. And he had a feeling the sermon was inspired by the events of the past week with the focus of defeating the Darkness with God's Light.

After closing prayer, John noticed how his friends appeared. Mickey looked like one who had been reminded of something long forgotten. Riku reminded him of a man dying of thirst and longing for more of the water that he'd barely tasted. Stephen was considering and curious. Sherlock was much the same, but also with an attempt to understand it all.

As everyone started leaving, John managed to find himself opposite Kayla. He'd known that she had joined them after the Sunday School lesson, but he'd forced himself to ignore the fact. Almost making himself feel a bit of a coward. "Uh, hi," he greeted

"Hi." She tucked some of her brown hair behind her ear. "I've noticed that you haven't really posted much since the New Year."

"Ah, yes. Things have been a bit crazy since then."

"Anything to do with the monster attacks?"

"Quite a bit actually."

"I saw you on the telly fighting them. How'd you learn to do that?"

"Some of it Sherlock helped me with." John hesitated. Then decided to be fully honest. "And the rest was training in dreams."

"In dreams?" Kayla asked, her face unreadable.

"Yeah, I know it's crazy."

She shrugged. "While it's not common now a days, various people in the Bible received visions. There is nothing to dictate that God can't work that way again."

Relief and wonder swept through him as he looked at her. Oh, he definitely wanted to ask her out now. But what was the proper etiquette for a Christian? Maybe he should wait–

"John, ask her out already," Sherlock cut in.

John felt his face heat up to his ears. "Sherlock!" he snapped.

"I am seeing two people mutually attracted to each other and I'd dare to say she won't have an issue with your danger addiction," Sherlock said.

"Well, sorry, I don't know if there are rules about this for Christians," John said.

"I imagine it wouldn't be much different, just no snogging."

"Sherlock," Molly said, disapproving.

"Oh, sorry."

John peeked at Kayla through his mortification.

She was smiling at him despite her red cheeks. "Is he always like that?"

"Being a jerk, yes. Trying to get me dating someone, no." John sighed. "I haven't been a Christian for a full week and so I'm really new to everything."

"Well, I'm currently not seeing anyone," Kayla said, "and I wouldn't mind hanging out if you wanted to take it slow. Or it could be a date, just the two of us."

"We were actually planning on celebrating a bit this afternoon, if you don't have plans."

"I'm free. Where should I meet you?"

"We'll be at 221B Baker Street. Everyone will probably start getting there about 2:00."

"I'll be there. Should I bring crisps or anything?"

"I think crisps should be fine," John said. Was he smiling like an idiot? Why was he doing that?

"Will you be telling what happened or will I need to wait on the blog?" Kayla asked, smiling back, cheeks dusted pink.

"I'm sure we'll be passing stories around."

"Okay, I'll see you later then." A moment later she was gone.

"Hm, I think I smell _love_," Stephen said.

"Don't start," John said.

"If nothing else, it's possible," Mickey said.

John silently acknowledged that as they headed home.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I hope I got a few smiles at least. This was definitely meant to be a lighter chapter.

For those of you unfamiliar with _Kingdom Hearts_, as Sherlock's Nobody, Stephen shares Sherlock's memories thus giving Stephen a reference point for John's "bad days."

I decided to give John this little extra ability because from what I have observed in the games, each keyblade wielder has their own special traits. Some, like Riku, can smell Darkness, others are extra sensitive to Light, still others can detect a person's powers, etc. So, I decided to give John this trait.

And may I introduce you all to Kayla, GoodShipSherlollipop's original character from her stories, and the only other person that I will ever pair with John aside from Mary. I fell in love with the sweet, gentle romance GoodShipSherlollipop created between John and Kayla in her first Journey story. Go visit her stories and meet the lovely Christian that won John's heart. A part of me still fears that I did not do her justice.

I know that _technically_ I could have finagled Mary into the story, but we have no idea in Sherlock canon of where Mary is during the Scandal period. I also wanted John to meet and fall in love with a lovely lady who was already a Christian. So a great many thanks to **GoodShipSherlollipop** for allowing me to borrow Kayla for the end of this story.

And it is also her influence that has me believing Molly loves Sherlock's curls. :-)

Alright, just two more chapters after this. Still interested in any theories or thoughts you have concerning the ending. Until next time.


	11. Baker Street Gathering

By 1:30, just about everyone was settling in quite happily in 221B Baker Street. Mycroft had already stopped by and left to officially meet his new brother before the guests started arriving. Mrs. Hudson had come shortly thereafter, followed by Harry, and then Greg, in hopes of hearing the full story. It was just a little before 2:00 that Molly and Kayla arrived with two covered dishes, one which Molly popped into the oven. "Needs to bake for an hour or so," she said.

With everyone present and seated, John and Molly shared about their odd dreams, not too dissimilar from John's own and how they figured out that these dreams were actually messages. Molly's training had been exclusively in her dreams since she didn't know anyone who could teach her swordplay and thought it best to focus on her magic craft. That magic had actually helped to keep the Heartless Moriarty sent to the lab in check for the first few days of the invasion. John shared how he and Sherlock had trained and about his conversion to Christianity just hours before the Heartless started swarming London.

John and the rest of the Keyblade Wielders attempted to keep talk of other worlds down to a minimum. But even beforehand, they'd had to admit there was only so much they could hide when there was an actual meter tall Mickey Mouse instead of a guy in a suit.

Once the full story had been told to the fright and delight of all, the real celebration phase of the party got started. So as everyone started to laugh and talk, John went over to the table that had been cleared of Sherlock's scientific experiments for a drink and sampling of food. There were a few bags of crisps of course. A bowl of red punch. Molly's spaghetti smothered in sauce that she'd said was homemade. Naturally Mrs. Hudson had brought up a couple dishes of potatoes and vegetables. And the piping hot corn and chicken casserole Molly said was Kayla's signature dish for church fellowship gatherings.

John was certain that he spied some bits of mushroom as he made sure to help himself to a serving of Kayla's dish. It might have been hunger, but everything smelled beyond delightful.

"When are you going to make your move, Casanova?" Harry asked, joining him as she sipped a punch.

"What do you mean?" John asked. His sister was acting and feeling rather supportive all of a sudden. But then they had also only just managed to survive the scariest thing in their joint lives. It was only natural for siblings to feel more sisterly or brotherly, right?

"You've been making eyes at that Kayla girl ever since she came through the door," Harry said. "What gives? Usually you'd be sitting right beside her and trying to steal a kiss or two."

"I'm planning to take it slow," he answered. "Believe me, habit is wanting me to sit next to her and see how far we might go. But, considering a dearly departed brother in Christ, that's not how I'm supposed to act. I need to study up on it, and a few dozen other things, now that we don't have Heartless breathing down our necks."

Harry studied him. "So, this religion isn't just a phase then."

"I have no intention of that. I plan to stick it out," John said seriously.

Harry smiled. "I wish you the best. Just . . . don't get all 'holier than thou' on me, okay?"

"I won't, I'll just pray a house of fire for you," John answered with a tease. "At least once I learn how to do it."

"John, I've yet to have a proper look at your keyblade," Sherlock said.

John rolled his eyes with a smile as he set his drink and plate down in a safe place. He then moved where he had some elbow room and summoned Healing Warrior.

A couple gave low whistles. "That is a beauty, John," Greg said.

"And very clever," Sherlock said, holding the keyblade on his flat palms. "The unicorn horn and the snake are both nods to his ancestors and yet they are also tied to the medical field."

"Also," Stephen offered, "in legends, unicorns are not only healers by fierce fighters. Snakes are also considered highly dangerous."

"The laurels and RAMC insignia also herald back to John being a retired Army Doctor," Sherlock finished.

"What if you used that cross necklace as a keychain?" Riku asked. He shrugged when everyone but Mickey looked at him oddly. "Just a thought."

"What Riku means," Mickey explained, "is what if John used that cross on his keyblade? Many experienced keyblade wielders have multiple keychains. Sherlock has the Belstaff keychain; Molly has the winged sword keychain; and John has the RAMC chain. They are all interchangeable. So if John could use the cross necklace as a keychain, it could give him another keyblade with more unique powers."

"Let's try it then," John said. He reclaimed his keyblade and after a moment of study exchanged the keychain for the necklace. For a moment nothing changed. Then a golden light swirled around it.

"Whoa," echoed about the room. The laurels were replaced by eagle's wings. The grip was wrapped in rough, red-brown cloth. The shaft was a rough length of wood that appeared to have been stained with blood. And where the snake head had been, a simple golden crown melded into a crown of thorns.

"_The Empty Cross_," John murmured. The name was perfect.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Okay, so everyone has now gotten together at least for a little bit to catch up and ensure that everyone made it through okay. Just one more chapter that will be more of an epilogue.

I guess I also wanted to show that John's decision to become a Christian has already made definite changes in his life as is evident by what Harry sees. Sherlock also needed a chance to have a good look at John's keyblade like he's been wanting to do for almost a week now. :-)

Using Williams's necklace as a keychain sneaked up on me a little. But, in the games, it is a common mechanic that whichever keyblade wielder you're playing can have dozens of keyblades to choose. Of course that needed a nod. And, the gold crown/crown of thorns was inspired by the logo for _His Story The Musical_. If you enjoy such musicals as _Hamilton_, I believe that you'll enjoy this. Or, if you just want to hear an easy to understand interpretation of Jesus's Ministry, go check it out. You can find the full collection on Youtube or Spotify.

Again, the lovely Kayla is the creation of GoodShipSherlollipop, including her signature dish. If you haven't already, go check out her page and read her amazing collection of Sherlolly stories. I have her listed in my favorite authors tab if needed.

Any final theories before the epilogue? Thoughts? Things you especially enjoyed about this story? Maybe even some thoughts of what you would love to see if I dared venture into a sequel? Let me know in the comments. Until next time. :-)


	12. Epilogue: Settling into Normal

As evening drew on, people started to leave. John and Kayla exchanged numbers before she left, promising to call and text, hopeful of seeing each other within the next few days. Molly left after sharing a soft kiss with Sherlock. Greg promised to be in touch with any cases. Mrs. Hudson returned downstairs with motherly urges to be careful.

Then came the parting John knew was coming, even though he'd tried to delay it.

"Well, Riku and I best be going," Mickey said.

"Where will you be going?" John asked.

"To the Realm of Darkness," Riku answered. "An old friend has been trapped there for a long time."

"Need any help?" Stephen asked.

"Thanks, fellas," Mickey said, "but we couldn't risk you guys. You're still very new to all this and it wouldn't be fair to throw you into this level of danger."

"At least promise to call if you're in too deep," John said.

"Yes, I believe some world travel will be interesting to say the least," Sherlock added.

"Here's our gummiphone number should you need us," Riku said, jotting a string of numbers on a paper.

"And here's mine and Sherlock's," John said, doing the same.

A few minutes later, teen and mouse were gone.

Stephen sighed. "Things are going to be boring for a bit I imagine."

* * *

Before a fortnight passed that proved untrue, when The Woman dropped into their lives again after a six months absence. A delay in conveying the answer to a string of numbers by a well-placed time freeze spell ensured the Death Plane still flew.

John's conscience got the better of him as he recognized his unworthiness to be dating such a treasure that Kayla proved to be. But after he broke up with her, he never felt so lost or empty. It took lots of prayer as well as Sherlock and Molly locking John and Kayla in Molly's flat for them to talk things out and get back together again. In the months that followed, John found himself eyeing some rings, looking for the perfect match.

Stephen took to traveling. He started studying medicine with the intention of becoming a surgeon and also searching for a master in magic to help him hone his natural skills.

Then a few months after the Heartless invasion without a Consulting Criminal Mastermind to orchestrate it, two children were never kidnaped and traumatized, a desperate reporter never got her story, and Operation Lazarus was never devised. However a phone call came in from an old friend.

* * *

John walked through the kitchen after his morning shower. He barely glanced at the hanging mannequin behind his chair as he gave his ears a final drying before picking up his ringing phone. "Hello."

"John, it's Riku. Are you and Sherlock available for a missing person's case?"

"I believe we are," John said before turning from his phone momentarily. "Sherlock, Riku with a missing person case."

"Details, John," Sherlock said, shooting up from his seat before his microscope. Excitement sparked within a whirlwind of curiosity. "I must have details."

"What are some details, Riku?" John asked, turning the speaker on.

"A couple of my friends are missing," Riku answered. "Ever since we defeated Master Xehanort. We need help finding them."

**The End**

**. . .**

**Or is it?**

* * *

**Author's Note**: And there is the current end for this crossover. I guess you could say that this epilogue became a bit of a "fix-it" for some of the largest bumbles and the most heartbreaking episode in the _Sherlock_ series. And from here on, _Kingdom Hearts III_ continues on without a change.

John and Kayla's fumble in their relationship is a nod to what happened to them in GoodShipSherlollipop's story. Yes, John is a Christian, but that doesn't mean that he wouldn't face guilt for what he has done in the past. Satan has a nasty habit of reminding us of things that God has already forgiven and chosen to forget.

A quick special thank you to **GoodShipSherlollipop** and **mamabear04** who faithfully visited and reviewed, especially since they were willing to give the _Kingdom Hearts_ half of this story a chance. I truly appreciated and loved each and everyone of your reviews. :-)

Now, concerning a sequel. There are _no_ promises. In either direction. I can't really let myself think about it right now cause I am in the middle of NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month challenge.

But I can't deny that there is some potential. Moriarty's Nobody is somewhere out there. And for those _Kingdom Hearts_ fans, you may recall in the secret ending some certain Masters resurrected from the distant past. I can only imagine the conflict that could create for John and Molly if the Masters are revealed to be bad guys like it was implied.

However, it will require a little more planning because since our heroes would be handling a missing persons case, they'll be traveling through various worlds. Which means that I have to figure out which worlds I want them to visit without stretching the believability of Sherlock actually surviving in that world. I am certain that there are just some worlds that would stress Sherlock to the point of meltdown for one reason or another.

So, there is a possibility that a sequel will show up. But it may not be for quite some time. (Looks woefully at the number of unfinished projects languishing from lack of inspiration and time.)

Anyway. Feel free to share your favorite parts, if you have a favorite. Or is there something I should work on that would make this and future stories better? And now that you've seen the epilogue, what would you like to see in the sequel if it were to happen? Any particular films you think should become worlds? Or scenarios you think would be fun? Ideas for spinoffs, in the lovely tradition of Square Enix (makers and distributors of Kingdom Hearts)?

Farewell and God Bless. :-)


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